Ala: Wings
by Animangame02freak
Summary: Being a noblewoman in 1476 isn't known for her love of learning. Guess I'm the odd one. But things have been odd lately too, starting with my sudden engagement to the son of another noble family and killings that seem less and less of a coincidence...
1. Chapter 1

"_Wings symbolize Freedom for those who have none."_

**Ala: Wings**

Chapter One:

The tip of my quill scratched against the paper. Behind each stoke tailed obsidian ribbons that curved and twisted to form elegant calligraphy. I paused watching the ink dry and reached for the gleaming vessel further up my desk. The feathered quill's tip dipped into the glass inkwell, tapped lightly to rid the extra obsidian drops of ink before resuming to the page.

The room was bathed entirely in the gold of the fading sun that seeped through my open window. My shadow grew long on the floor. A gentle breeze pushed the curtains away and with its invisible fingers, I could feel it curl the escaped strands of my russet hair that I had knotted back from my face.

An earsplitting crash of a vase from down the hall made me jump; I edged my quill away from the parchment of my small, black, leather-bound book to prevent any mistakes. The scurrying footsteps across the floor behind the crack of my door made it appear that one of our servants, man or woman, made haste towards the sound.

"WHERE IS MY DRESS!?"

I winced as another shatter aroused breaking the silence. I tried to urge myself back to my letter but my ears turned at the woman's voice, my sister's, as she began demanding for her dress she had ordered specially from France.

My own dress, however, was abandoned on my bed collecting dust.

"I'm sure its somewhere my lady—" a servant said flustered trying to calm her lady. My eyebrows knit with worry when my sister began her notorious shrieking again. A crash of glass interrupted the servant.

Perhaps she had taken her anger out on the glass vase that housed the roses from her former lover. No sympathy plunked by heartstrings. It was a hideous looking thing anyways.

"I WANT IT NOW!"

By the noise of the abused objects coming from her room, she no doubt meant it. I sighed and pushed myself away from the desk, wiped my white under gown and opened the door listening. I noticed a body at my left and I looked. A female servant was there, pressing herself against the wall trembling. I didn't blame her. The newest fire-breathing dragon in Italy had a name, and it was Lucrezia Mercanti.

"Excuse me." I tapped the maid's shoulder.

She jumped, not even lying, a foot at my touch. Hmm, Lucrezia sure does have a way with people. When she recovered, her face blushed scarlet at her actions towards her other countess, "S-spiacente Lady Irene. I—I didn't notice you."

I could see that.

"Did my sister find her dress yet?"

My question was interrupted by another outburst of shattered glass. I guess not. The blood that infused the woman's cheekbones seemed to spill out her feet and onto the red carpet.

"We've looked in her closet and it wasn't there." She said regaining her voice though still devoid of color, "She's upset."

Upset? Hell being unleashed is _upset_?

I swallowed my irritation at the maid's choice of vocabulary. "Are you sure that you looked everywhere?"

Her eyes widened expressing her brown irises. "Where else could it be? That's where all her dresses go…and her shoes…"

Seeing that the servant was of no help, I brushed past her and crossed towards the door I had always seen ever since I was little. The back of my knuckles rapped against the smooth door as knocked politely. I thought back to the day her gown had arrived. I never could forget my sister's face on how she hugged it and danced circles around the dining room. She had ordered it for this one night, a simple celebration where everyone danced around in masks.  
I wondered if she heard me.

But the door opened and the first thing I noticed about the woman was how terribly red her cheeks were. She looked very irritated and frustrated. I didn't blame her. In her hand was a broom and in the other was a tray filled with gleaming shards, remnants of the vase.

Suddenly my sister's face shoved against mine, her jade eyes flaming. "Where is it Irene?!" she demanded. Her fingernail poked at me in an almost exact replica of a shining dagger, "Where-is-my-dress?!"

"How would I know?" I replied. I suppressed a sigh when the fire in her eyes didn't lessen and instead of waiting in the hallway, I brushed her aside to take a look at the damage.

It was an improvement. Dresses of assorted colors, brought from varies countries were scattered all over the floor and resting on the chairs. Discarded, in my sister's eyes perhaps.

My eyes roamed freely taking in the sight. Until now, I never had a care for Lucrezia's many tantrums but this was a new one on me. As I looked, I spotted a brilliant blue in the corner of her room; it was one the lowest layer of the mountain of clothing on the chair. I crossed to it ignoring my sister as she began her ranting for the missing dress. The dress was smooth at my fingertips and without a wrinkle, I cocked an eyebrow. It was offset the shoulders that scooped down low, trimmed with lace, to no doubt emphasize her breasts. Besides it was a dark azure corset to match, lined in silver stitching.

"What color was it again, Lucrezia?" I asked her interrupting whatever nonsense she was pouting about.

Her eyes lit up in memory, "A sapphire blue." She said, "The weaver's in France are most skillful in their work. It was as if they had stolen the color from the sapphire itself or even snatched a dash of the ocean. It took months to…."

I pretty much didn't even try to pay attention to the rest.

I looked at the dress beneath the heap of complied gowns again. I raised a hand and signaled for a servant who hurried to me while Lucrezia rambled. Her eyes spotted the blue dress after a moment and she thanked me before removing the gowns one by one.

"Here it is, my Lady!" She said. I listened to her words, weak with exhaustion.

Lucrezia looked as if she could burst into tears but she did not though I know that she wouldn't. She was a good actress, my sister. "Oh _thank you_!" The dress was ripped out of the woman's hands and she spun with it as if she had found her long lost child. I almost felt sympathy for the dress. If it had lungs and could breathe, it'd be dead. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart, maid. Grazie, grazie for finding it!"

The maid cast me a fearful look, "Mi scusi…mi spiace, ma…"

"Irene." I looked at her indifferent. "Leave, I'm getting changed now." She turned back to the blushing servant, "Really, I must think of some way to thank you…."

She stepped back from my sister and curtsied, "With all due respect, my Lady. I did not find it. Lady Irene did. I merely helped get it out of the pile of gowns. Mi spiace…"

The transformation was obvious. Lucrezia's eyes were hard on me and I knew that a 'thank you' wasn't coming my way. It never did.

There appeared some effort on sister's face trying to make up an excuse. So I ignored it.

"Non importa." I said quietly with putting hardly less effort into a polite curtsy. Without a word, I strut off out of my sister's room feeling her eyes bore into my skull. My parchment remained untouched when I left it and it was the first thing I went to see when I entered my room. I read it and I studied my name at the end of the today's entry.

_Irene Mercanti_

I set it down and closed the book, fastening it with a string. As I held it in my hands, I brought the small book to my breast. I could remember what I had written and my penmanship imprinted itself on my mind burning a sin too deep to heal. I loved writing, I _wanted _to learn. But those two things were signs of independence, something that Father did not want.

To be the ideal noblewoman, I should have friends, I should want to shop and at a blossoming age of sixteen, almost seventeen in less than five months, I should also be courting other men.

Well, I _should_. But I wasn't. The only women I associated with were hardly called friends. They were noblewoman of the court, coming and going when their husbands came to discuss matters with Father. They arrived in their carriages, faces painted and the perfume on them suddenly made it hard to breathe when I was in the same room. And they _talked._ Talked, talked and talked even more. What wasthere _not _to discuss? Fashion? A married man sleeping with his 'supposed' maid? Or the new face with a charming smile?

I sighed. I had nothing to supposedly gossip with them. My mouth ached at the thought. They had no passion for learning as I did. And they shouldn't. Perhaps it wasn't the courtesy that made me have to speak with them. It was the expectation of Father and his green eyes that always seemed to watch me.

These thoughts, realizations, made me wallow in self hatred. I hated my desire for knowledge but I was again thankful that it set me apart. I was the independent young woman behind the mask of society. I leaned over to cork the stopper on the inkwell. I slipped my hands beneath my table and fingered the wooden knob that was connected to the secret compartment hidden to all but me. I wiggled the small door and it refused to budge. I rolled my eyes and tugged at it more firmly. Knuckles rapped against the door outside and I froze when it locked again.

"Milady? Lady Mercanti, are you in there?" The voice of one of the servants Father employed asked. My blood flushed hot and cold and I glanced from the door to my booklet. I grasped the knob firmly and pulled.

"_Signora_ Irene? What _is_ the noise?"

"Non importa!" I struggled to keep my anxiety from my voice.

I could glimpse the shadow beneath the door shift, "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, _everything's _fine!"

"I'm coming in, signora."

_Oh for the love of…_ I glared at the knob as the doorknob turned slightly.

It opened at last and without further distractions I crammed the feathered quill, my diary, and the inkwell into it. The secret slot slammed shut before the female servant opened the door. She stared at me and eyed the white undergown that still dressed me. Then to the gown that wasn't apparently on me. Her face went white and she hurried in; I looked around her form to see more people near my door. Great…there were more of them….

"My lord is going to be absolutely _furious_ when he discovers that you haven't changed yet!" She muttered staring at the gown making it hard to decide who she was really talking to.

I sighed holding out my arms ready to be dressed. The servants swarmed over me and I felt a bit claustrophobic. "Don't be ridiculous." I said icily, "He only cares for his papers." But I was ignored.

Combs (specially ordered from the orients) raked through my dark hair, pulling at the tangles and knots while a brush followed obediently behind. When the brushing was done, hands began to braid. Fingers flew snatching little sections and knotted them, twisting ribbons whilst they worked.

A maid helped me stand, being careful not to ruin my hair, and moved me behind a changing screen. I lifted a slender ankle over the next as they slipped my gown at my feet. I stood still to allow the servant to string the cream colored corset that already hugged my midriff.

"Is this—" I gasped as the air in my lungs suddenly escaped me, "_necessary?_" A woman pulled harder at the strings and I felt my waist shrink in width as well as my breathing. Red dots exploded in my eyes and I stumbled when a slipper was shoved beneath my foot without my acknowledgment.

The screen was removed and I was exposed.

"It's quite lovely dear." One of the servants said quite fondly.

And what does a tight corset have to do with being lovely?

I was escorted to a full body length mirror and I stared at my vanity at first dismissing my appearance.

The impact of seeing my reflection took a sudden turn. I felt sweaty and I broke into goose bumps. I wasn't vain. But I couldn't help but to stare. It was a dark purple empire dress that flared with red skirts beneath with low scoop neckline that offset my shoulders to leave the neck bare. Her thick, dark brown hair, my screaming scalp, was twisted back into a circular bone composed entirely out of braids to reveal her arched neck that was held up with whatever dignity she could muster. Her skin was olive toned, smooth and flawless with long limbs. But her eyes shocked me most of all. My deep brown eyes stared back at with enigmatic emotion.

Was it pain? Fear? Or something else entirely?

I was barely conscious of the maids crowding around me. They puffed perfume around my naked neck and the chilling cold touch of a necklace broke me from the trance the mirror had put me under. My fingertips touched the metal collar. It was a silver necklace, crested with black gems. I said nothing and they didn't expect her to.

One of them (I didn't pay attention who, or really care) cleared her throat. I looked. In the maid's hand was a simple white, half-face mask. Placing it to my face I turned back to the mirror. The dark eyes stared back into mine.

I realized the emotion in the vanity's eyes to be sadness. Her eyes were pitiful and round but there was sign of dissolving into tears. She had lost something very precious and I felt it too. The loss of independence.

* * *

Watched Assassin's Creed 2 trailer a few months back but never tried to make my own fanfic until now. Wings, a wierd title, I know but I'm still getting used to it to.

Can't wait for the game (but not so much as Final Fantasy Versus XIII)!

There will be italian words but don't worry, I'll have their meanings.

NOTE: THOSE WHO ARE ITALIAN IF I SPELL SOMETHING WRONG LET ME KNOW!!!!

Irene Mercanti ('Irene' Italian name for: _peace_/ 'Mercanti' Italian surname for: _Merchant_, the job of her father)

Lucrezia Mercanti ('Lucrezia' Italian name for: _wealthy/ _'Mercanti' –same as above)

Spiacente- I'm sorry

Grazie- Thank you (Mille: Very much)

Mi spacie, ma....- Excuse me, but....

Non importa- It doesn't matter

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Assassin's Creed 2! (Ezio will come ok? R e l a x)

I'M STILL TRYING TO FIND OUT THE PLOT OF THIS FIC! AND PLUS I'M WORKING ON MY FINAL FANTASY STORY MORE THEN THIS ONE!

Should I continue this or no? Please tell me.

Thank you for your reviews (if I get any since this is my first time at doing a 1 POV). Quote is from a Final Fantasy game (don't know which)

~Animangame02freak


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"There you are Irene. It was rude to keep us waiting."

Father didn't look up from me from his desk when I arrived from upstairs. The quill in his hand made it evident that he wasn't planning to. I entered his study and watched him with quiet eyes as he sat behind an imposing, mahogany oak desk, its surface hidden by sheets of papers stamped with the family seal. The parchment crinkled beneath his fingertips as he read the words inscribed upon its page.

"I'm sorry." But he waved my apology away with a gesture of his hand. I felt stung but remained where I was and the scratchiness of his quill filled the silence between us.

His name was Ernesto Mercanti otherwise known for being a wealthy merchant by his_...our_...last name_._ His hair was gray at the temple defining his age and the scowl on his face was stern and unyielding just like his personality. There wasn't any tenderness, family or business but there was sympathy that was often dished to Lucrezia, his first born. But for some reason I don't think his 'softness' towards Lucrezia didn't have to deal with her being the eldest of his two daughters. It dealt with the fact that she wasn't the one who killed his wife. My mother when she died after an illness she had after my birth.

I tucked a stray curl from my neck and fastened it around my ear. My eyes watched drops of wax cascade down the lit candle at the upper corner of his desk. It looked like it was crying. I glanced at my side noticing Lucrezia hiding behind her silver mask that covered half of her face as mine did. Her cinnamon hair was braided back like mine but was held by a hair net stringed with pearls. Strands of her hair were coiled into curls at the sides of her angular but lovely face.

"You look beautiful." I said.

Her red lips pulled back as she smiled and the mirth danced in her eyes. I sighed. The disturbance of riled papers made me look. Father placed down his stack of forms and pushed back away from the desk. He straightened and tugged at the wrinkles of his crimson robe that was clasped with mother of pearl buttons. The tunic fell to his feet and was covered by a velvet cloak. And the rings on his hands glistened like the stars when he straightened his mask to his face.

His eyes spotted Lucrezia and her elegance first. He smiled pleasantly at his eldest, "You looking beautiful as always." Lucrezia ate his compliment as hungrily as a poor man would if he discovered a grand feast.

Father didn't compliment me though his eyes looked over me briefly. I took his attention none the less and inclined politely.

The light from the doorway shaded when a servant stepped into the room dressed in his black attire. He stopped before Father, bowed, before saying, "Mi scusi Signore. The carriage has just arrived outside the gates." And he bowed again.

He strode past the servant and we walked down the marble floored foyer. The walls were lined with knights and in the moonlight their armor shone cool silver. We exited our mansion and I was greeted into the night by the chilling air that made my arm coat in goose bumps. A servant opened the door of the carriage that was in park and I followed Lucrezia through the door. Once I sat, the door clicked and locked behind and a sharp crack of the whip jolted the carriage to life followed by the sound of crushed gravel. I inhaled and stared out the window. To breathe was hard and I took out my fan to give me air feeling the pleasing breeze against my face.

The carriage jostled when it rode on the smooth pavement and turned to head to the south end of Venice. In the distance I heard sharp reports. Gunfire? But I glimpsed a color and I thought otherwise. It was a few moments of silence when Father finally spoke.

"Irene."

I unwillingly turned to him.

The darkness in the carriage helped but I could envision him and his haughty face. And somehow I felt his eyes burning holes into my face.

He said clearing his throat, "Even though we may be at a festival, I will not allow my two daughters be sidetracked by foolish men." My eyebrows curved up confused by what he was talking about. "I don't want any of you two to start any of your foolish romances when we are here, am I clear? Stay away from such temptations and keep to yourself."

Two young women, unmarried and both with a large dowry at a party where people were masked and filled with gentlemen that circled your waist whist dancing. _You might as well try to stop the moon from rising_, I thought.

I never was the one to seek out a male companion; he was looking at the wrong daughter for that. I glanced at my sister who sat besides him and at that moment, street lamps lit the inside of our coach and I saw her face. She was mortified, angry but when Father put his eyes on her to see if she understood his order, her face was composed in a smooth wave but her eyes flashed when his head turned.

"Do you two understand?" he asked.

Why did I have a feeling like that question was directed toward me?

I nodded, "Yes."

I could sense some hesitation from Lucrezia but nevertheless, she too said. "Yes." I noted the reluctance which our father overlooked.

The carriage slowed and I felt the decrease in speed. A horse's whinny faded into the night air. The door opened and Father departed and stepped out with my sister and I bent over following. The sharp whip snapped and the carriage drove down the street and I returned my focus to the direction where laughter was audible. I stumbled in the dark and I muttered a soft curse. Stupid shoes.

We turned the corner and I stared out at the party before me. Masks of different colors and shapes hid the faces of those who catch my eye. Multicolored silks and clothes that garbed the dancers shimmered in the lantern's light and the air was filled with their lively laughter. I clasped my hands over my ears as the explosion of fireworks rang clear sending a tremor throughout my body. I yearned for the quiet hours before. I could imagine the sunset bathing me in its warm embrace and the tickling breeze. My eyes looked up from my thoughts to watch another firework explode illuminating a vibrant purple before a brilliant green took its place releasing a sound that echoed in the entire city. There were cheers and exclaims of amazement when the blue took its place in the night. My skin crawled, not of fear this time but of wonder. Suddenly I didn't miss the sun or my papers and quill. And the colors danced in my eyes.

At my side, my father lifted his chin to bare his throat inspecting over the heads that were lower class below him. His jeweled fingers plucked at his scarlet tunic and toyed with his velvet mask. Watching him, a question crossed my mind. Ever since mother's death, he had been more then reluctant to re-marry. Then why was he here? He hated parties as much as I did. Was he finally going to give another woman a chance in his life? Seemed unlikely.

Father lowered his eyes to his two daughters before turning away. I watched him go until a smile flashed on Lucrezia's face claiming my attention.

"What are you doing?" I asked when she tossed back her curled hair though I know that it was stupid to ask. She smoothed out her dress as if I said nothing and wiggled her shoulders. Among men, she's known as a real beauty, I think so too, more then me anyways.

But I also think that she's an idiot.

Father had no idea that his eldest daughter was breaking his orders, and I desperately wished that he would glance back to check on us. But when I looked to see him, the space he took up was replaced with two dancers, none of them being my father. I glanced around and my search was wasted.

I broke from my wandering when a masked stranger approached my sister. Not even being here for five minutes, and already someone's been captivated by her! I had seen that dazed smile countless times was the goddess in the flesh. And as I flicked my eyes around, I noted how many off the other dancers had their eyes on her instead of their partners. She took his hand and I watched them melt into the crowd and finally disappearing.

And I was alone.

With a huff, I stomped off, my skirt sweeping at my heels. I moved out of the way of dancing couples trying not to interfere with their elegance movements. I envied them.

I hugged my arms continuing to avoid people's spinning dances. I touched my naked shoulders and I shivered at the cold metal at my throat. I couldn't get used to the exposure. I could have been walking around naked for all I know.

The dress also felt ridiculous, I inhaled deeply and tried to find the space in my lungs to breathe. I waved the fan and the breeze caused by my flicking wrist seemed to help with the heat, though little. The pins that held up my braid were also a problem. It tugged hard against the roots of my hair inflaming my scalp. I was itching to pull them out.

One thing stopped me from doing so. I glanced back feeling my back being watched. There was a group of men watching me behind the holes of their mask. The tips of my ears burned as a flush crept up my neck reddening my cheeks. I wasn't used to their stares and their laughter mocked me as I walked away.

Multicolored, paper lanterns lined on a thin rope swayed above my head as they lighted my way. A swirling motion at my left made me stumble as I backpedaled to get out of the way of a dancing pair.

"Sorry."

But they had disappeared into the dance just as quickly.

I watched disappointed hoping that I had someone to talk to. But everyone seemed lost in their own worlds, drowning in a merriment that I desired. I retreated towards a section of a brick wall crawling with vines and stood there watching the dancers. I rubbed my arms again, mottled with shivers. The air wasn't cold but I strangely felt being caught in a midwinter storm.

With no regards to my dress, I leaned by against the wall and folded my hands over stomach listening to the music. I was transfixed by the movement of the fiddler, who stood some yards away, that played and how his hands blurred and his shoulders bent dancing to his own song. Arms were hooked together and bodies were brought up and back like a tide. Though I didn't admit it (perhaps the downfall of my pride) my feet yearned to join the dancers but I cringed back as a slender body spun out and twirled back into her partner's arms laughing. I noted the smile on his face. A night for flirting. That's a problem. I don't flirt, _couldn't _flirt. The thought of giving a false smile to a complete stranger, toying with his emotions as if he was no more then a toy, made the corner of my lips curl in repugnance.

Speaking of flirting, where was Lucrezia? I glanced around to the sides where people were content to watch, just like me.

It didn't take long to find her.

She was at the sidelines as I was but with better company. Her chest rose exhilarated from dancing, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration with a few strands of her bun sticking out from her pearl stringed net. My sister was laughing as she sat upon the lap of a masked gentleman who stole her away earlier. His lips pulled back as he smiled but his eyes and thoughts were hidden behind the mask and I felt the wariness that did not seem to occur to my sister. His finger touched Lucrezia's throat and even though it wasn't me who he touched, I had a trouble breathing wondering his next move as the back of his knuckles trailed down her neck. But Lucrezia knew because she tapped her laced fan suggestively and battered her eyelashes giving him a smile that I knew to capture the emotions of men she had previously encountered.

Swallowing to hold on to my sanity that was slowly but surely waning, it was also disgust that made me look away and I felt lonely and excluded more then ever. I traced the flawless edge of my mask that kept my identity a secret. I should not be here. This party was never meant for me and I wondered if I should sneak away before anyone could steal that chance of freedom from me. This would be the most boring page of my diary. As I turned my shoulders to find the nearest exit, my eyes did a double take across the dance floor and my eyebrows wove into one catching the sight of a familiar face.

Father. Near another exit far from me that led to a street I couldn't name.

"_Finally._" I murmured.

This was a first, I had to admit: being hopeful at seeing the man who hated me. I hitched up my skirts not wanting to trip and be stopped because of it and began to stride to him diving into the dancing crowd. When I was some yards away, I stopped and the dancers hid me, oblivious to my existence. I saw something that I hadn't noticed.

He wasn't alone.

A man was near to him, disguised by a hooded robe. I couldn't see him fully but the lines etched in his face made it evident that he wasn't young. A black cloak garbed him hiding the form of his body. I didn't like how he moved apprehensively from time to time.

Something about his frowning mouth made me uncertain. Though his eyes were veiled, I could see that he was unsatisfied. Father said something I couldn't hear but the news didn't seem to cheer up his cohort. The hooded man inclined with his head back behind him implying that he should follow. Father hesitated but when the man turned his back, like an eager child, he pursued after him.

I stared at him and a rush sped through my veins. Excitement? That feeling drummed through me and I was left giddy by the result. I wondered if I should follow…I wondered if I shouldn't…but when I saw that my father rounded the corner it made the decision for me. Picking up the skirt again, I moved through the crowd keeping my eyes fixed on Father's back. I squeezed through the narrow spaces and pushed some people from my path as the bodies began to flood in, I barely could see Father.

My shoulder bumped into a something hard and I gasped but quickly moving aside, "Mi dispiace." I didn't forget my manners so I quickly curtsied.

A large hand grasped my forearm when I took no more then two steps and I was pulled to a stop. "Are you leaving?" A low masculine voice asked curiously. I became semi-conscious on the proximity feeling his hot breath at my ear.

I tore my eyes off father's back. Like all those here, like me, a mask hid his face but he was young if not a year or more then I. His jaw was strong and his nose was straight and angled sharply possessing a noble demeanor. Though his eyes were masked, I could tell that he was very beautiful.

"Please, sir, I'm in a hurry."

"But this party wouldn't be as much fun without you here." The corners of his lips dimpled as he smiled.

I stared at him and I wondered if I was dreaming. Was he…_flirting_ with me? I turned my head to think clearly, to not forget who I was following. But when I looked, Father was gone, along with the stranger and in their space were dancers. I stood on my toes trying to see over the spinning heads but even the heels of my shoes weren't tall enough to help me.

The gentleman followed my line of vision.

His hand slipped under mine and nothing could stop the decent of his lips as he kissed it. Every pore on my body, head to toe, went aflame and I was absent of all my thought. It was a first for me and I had a silly thought on how I had lived so long without it.

His arm snaked around my waist taking advantage of me and led me into the dance. Fireworks exploded in the sky casting green and blue lights. Somehow they paled in significance to the simple kiss. The gray smoke went unnoticed in the black night. The gentleman spun around to face me and interlocked our arms together moving clockwise. One thought popped and another followed and even though my mind returned, I felt as helpless as an infant. I could glimpse the faces that passed us, each of them smiling. And I felt a smile shape my own lips and I knew that I couldn't envy the dancers any more. I stumbled but his hands clutched my arms and I was grateful. I watched his feet, and then looked at my own, but they were lost in a sea of skirts.

"You're not half bad." He said helping to straighten me.

"You don't need to be so modest." I replied feeling somewhat embarrassed. "I'm horrible."

My mysterious partner laughter and I was puzzled by it. He drew me in and I found myself pressed against his body. The pungent scent rubbing off his clothing made it hard regain my already scattered thoughts. My palms grew sweaty and I could barely move only breathing in the cologne. Digging my fingernails into his tunic, I tried to find the strength to pull away. But it was him that drew us apart to continue back to our dancing.

I felt like an idiot dancing with him. I was no different from the men who were captured by Lucrezia's charm. The air grew thin around me and the cold shattered the heat like glass at her name. I remembered Father's oath I promised to keep.

I planted my feet and stopped out steps short, "Spiacente. I can't continue stay. I must go." He must have sensed my unhappiness and though he was a gentleman, he didn't comply my words.

He raised my arm high and twirled me around. "That," he said, "would be unfortunate." Then he altered the dance. His arm went behind my waist, and my other hand, now free, had nowhere to rest by his shoulder. I leaned my head back and watched the fireworks revolve overhead till they blurred together. My whole body tingled with heat and shock at this frightening, dreamlike sensation of dancing. Close. To a beautiful but mystifying young man. Who was gazing down at me.

Somewhere in the song, I crossed a line in the sand. There would be no turning back. My eyes blurred. Swinging lanterns became dancing stars. The cold air melted into delicious heat. Father was gone, tailing after the hooded man. Lucrezia was sidetracked by another gentleman somewhere in the dance.

He was so close, the tip of his nose brushed against mine. His breath was warm on my cheek. His eyes, dark and rich as chocolate…

It was just him and me…

"Irene!"

My ecstasy shattered and whatever emotions that had were in me was cut free. I stared at the face, age lines hard in his skin and mouth frowning.

Father's.


	3. Chapter 3

If this chapter seems choppy, I apologize. My microsoft won't speltcheck or do that green underline thingy.

-_Animangame02freak_

* * *

Chapter Three:

I struggled to think.

Or breathe.

But the man's arm around my waist made it impossible and the very world around me seemed to spin. All the heat in my body went cold and the air was sucked dry from my lungs. I was surprised that I wasn't choking.

At last, a thought returned to me, a recollection. I remembered that father had left with a hooded stranger, if not somewhat vaguely. He was with that man. But I couldn't look to see, I was a sparrow entranced by the eyes of a snake. In other words: weak and helpless.

Lucrezia was at his side staring at me until I realized with a flare of anger that it was my partner that she was eyeing. The man she was dancing with was out of sight. She wasn't as dumb as I thought. She was smart enough to play with him and discard him just as quickly before father returned. I, however, had fallen completely for the man's charms and was too oblivious to notice.

My partner's arms fell off my waist leaving me bare. My father was staring hard at the stranger at my left side trying to see the face behind the mask. I didn't know if he was successful but his face closed withdrawing all emotion and then his eyes flashed into mine.

"Come."

It was all he said but somehow it held everything from his rage and pain to everything in-between. Giving the man a look cold as ice, father turned his heel and departed. Lucrezia wasn't a fool. Her eyes watched my partner beneath her heavily painted lashes. Then she flashed a smile at him, too wide for pretend and she turned around. I watched her slender figure retreat, swinging her hips as she did so catching the eyes of some of the masked dancers, who stopped their steps to watch her.

My cheeks flushed hot with shame and the nighttime air failed to cool them. I felt as if the heat could melt my very bones.

I shut my eyes and inhaled whatever dignity I had before I took a step forward. My partner didn't utter a word, no smooth charming word to catch my breath. I was half tempted to look back at him, to say something, or perhaps a small farewell. But a part of me wished for a simple kiss goodbye.

But my life wasn't a fairytale.

And I took a step forward and another, until I had passed the sea of whirling skirts and joyous laughter and into the shadowed corner where a carriage was parked, drawn by two stallions. The door was open, patiently waiting, and I could see father and Lucrezia inside.

I placed a delicate heel on the step and pushed up and into the small compartment without a glance back. I settled down across from Lucrezia and kept my eyes off father and instead out the window. As my eyes roamed, I wondered if I was looking for the man, hoping to catch his eye. But the longer I searched, the more disappointed I became. Heaviness harbored my heart and my throat clenched painfully until I looked away. The multicolored lights blurred past once the driver had, with a flick of his wrist, cracked the whip. The music and the merriment rolled past the window, people laughing in a different world then I.

At last the carriage wheels hit stone road and the joyous noise and dazzling lights had faded around the bend. And the fireworks had echoed into night's silence.

* * *

The ride home was longer then it seemed. None of us spoke and showed any sign of each other's existence. Although the darkness did its best to shadow everything, I could still spot father's glaring eyes upon me when we passed a streetlamp. I suppressed an urge to sigh knowing that I had failed to appease him. And our nighttime ride dragged further into silence.

Listening to the atmosphere's quiet sounds and feeling the gentle rock of the carriage lulled my mind. I replayed moments in my mind: the lights, laughter and emotions letting them fill me. I barely even acknowledged the doorman who held the door out when we arrived home.

Once we entered, a servant closed the door behind us and quickly turned around the bend, maneuvering quickly across the floor as if he was almost in a rush. Lucrezia kept walking but I didn't watching the servant's pace. I would have questioned his health until I heard something fast cut through the air and toward me. His hand was a blur.

A searing pain erupted from my cheek and the force of the blow snapped my head to the side. Out of surprise, I let out a horrid cry. My left cheek throbbed and I pressed my palm to it. Although father's hand had long past its mark, it stung.

Father's breathing was irregular as if that beating was hard for him. But his body shook with rage.

"How _dare _you defy _my _orders?!" He shouted, the palms of his hands curled into fists and I wouldn't be surprised if he chose to beat me again. "I told you to stay away!? Well?!"

I closed my eyes not bearing it to look at him squarely in the face. I cast my eyes on the floor. "Spia…"

"Look at me in the eye when I'm talking to you!"

The stinging slap resonated through the room like a cannon in a battlefield. I bit my lip, even before he struck. The skin on my lips tore from my teeth and my tongue tasted the metallic copper blood. My eyes rounded and I blinked hard trying not to let my pain show. Blood formed from the cuts my fingernails dug into my palm.

I lifted my face and into his eyes. "Spiacente..." I whispered. "I'm…sorry."

Father stared down at me hard and I held it unwilling to bend to his gaze. Feelings passed through us as if a great bridge connected our eyes. Emotions of anger and regret and sorrow. At last, the muscles in his body eased and the snarl on his mouth pursed. He let out a breath combing back the escaped strands of his hair back.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he approached the bottom of the steps and placed a boot upon a step before considering a thought. He didn't turn to face me, he said. "Go to bed."

There was no 'Good-night' or 'Sleep well'. Instead he turned and marched up the steps before turning to the right staircase and vanishing completely.

I didn't move. A flicker of movement made me turn my head, just barely, to see some bodies enter the room. The servants didn't cast a curious eye on me but kept walking do their tasks that surely didn't have anything to do with me.

As if they knew that was going to happen…

I climbed up the staircase feeling their eyes follow. I didn't need their sympathy or pity, I carried myself high step after step when inside I felt dead. I moved through the hallway, stopping only to pull at my doorknob and to enter. I stared about my room, everything peaceful and still as I had left it. Hands pressed upon me and I tensed at their touch only to realize that it was the maids and I relaxed. The ladies were quiet as they undressed me perhaps hearing the commotion a few minutes back. The pressure around my chest lessened as the strings were unfastened and the pins in my hair were plucked free. As their pulled ribbons away, my dark hair fell down past my shoulders in heavy curls. One offered a warm towel, not for my bruise, but for the makeup they had rubbed on me. I accepted it graciously and wiped my skin to rid the powder, but was careful to not press hard on my left cheek. Once I was finished, my nightgown on to replace my evening gown, they whispered their 'good-nights' to me and like spirits and just as quietly, left the room as if they had never entered. I stared around the vacant room, momentarily at my desk then I walked toward my bed. I didn't feel like writing tonight. I wiggled my body beneath the covers and pressed my face against the goose-feathered pillow waiting for sleep to take me. But instead I stared into darkness. The night air kissed my bare skin, caressing my shoulders with its gentle breeze as if it was an invisible lover.

Thoughtlessly, I placed the palm of my hand against my cheek, the one father had struck. It was still warm and it throbbed at my touch.

Without warning, hot tears escaped my eyes and cascaded my cheeks, fresh and oozing. I made no move to stop their trails and let them fall. It wasn't because of father's hit. He couldn't hurt me there. It was the man who had given my night so much and had taken it away.

I didn't even know his name…


	4. Chapter 4

Rated M just to be safe. 7 pages on Microsoft! :)

~_Animangame02freak_

* * *

Chapter Four

I inhaled as much of the warm morning air as the corset allows me and exhale just as deeply. The scents of the sharp vinegar, flora, and tangy fruits of the marketplace fill me. I flick out my wrist, and waft a breeze in my face and can almost taste one of the cinnamon buns in my mouth.

Around me the faces of both men and women are smiling as cheerful as they had done weeks ago. I watch the liveliness of the bustled market and listen to the voices of the venders that call out from their stalls about their wares and how better they are from the ones across the street. I hide a smile, trying to keep my lady-like mask from slipping that secretly held disgust for the corset and the unbearable agony I'm suffering through.

Someone laughs and I look up from the dirt when I realize that the laughter came nearby. Lucrezia's beautiful face closes but her eyes sparkle in the late morning light. Around her are a trio of friends that I've seen what seems my entire laugh; her friends with their hair pinned up and in dresses beautifully sown. Their handsome faces compared to my sister's are like soft candlelight to a raging inferno.

I wonder again why I'm here instead of being back in my room writing. With an aimed kick at the ground, I remember bitterly that Father had told me so.

It had been only a month since my misfortunate encounter with the stranger. But it felt like it's been longer since Father became more edgy then normal and his outburst more regular. The stranger's face is replaced with mine now when I look in the mirror and I can forget the kiss he prepared to give me easily. Though the memories have peeled away image by image, they sometimes appear in my dreams in small bits and pieces. The colors in the sky are vivid and bright as they were when they conceived and my heart seemed to be at its fullest and beating ceaselessly until I would wake and my reality and sense return. But now, all I could remember was the brown eyes behind the mask, if nothing else.

I lift my head and mask my thoughts and feelings and look around in a dignified facade. I move to take another step forward until the wind takes a sudden blow at my face and brings along with it a sweet scent that brings surprising tears to my face. It was not the dust but rather a memory of such a fragrance that brought me back to one of the most peaceful—and not happier—times of my life.

Instead of going forward, my feel of my shoe digs in the dirt and turns sharply left across the road towards a stall brimming of flowers. I am aware of Lucrezia and the others who look at a store selling wares of fine silks and I quickly calculate that I could catch up to them before they make up their minds about buying the product and turning around the corner.

A woman who employs the stand is watching me stiffly as I draw near. Her eyes watch as I run a slim finger of the soft petals of the roses on display. At her clothing, patched and if not worn several times, I cannot help but feel remorseful about my fine threaded gown. Though the air is sweet in the flora's scent, the tension and distrust is stronger and sharper, cutting through the flower's fragrance like a knife.

"These flowers are beautiful." I say pleasantly trying to ease the stiff shoulders of my merchant.

But she does not respond and remains impassive to my comment. I close my eyes, half lost in the perfume and half in disquiet. I breathe in the white lily, the one that had drawn me. And I slowly loose sense of the busy world around me and instead in the world of my memories. For a moment I can see my mother, radiant as she was in a soft, gentle way. I see her smile that blinds me like it was the sun. Such feelings of love and compassion ease me and I cannot help but to feel my bottom lip tremble in sorrow at my loss. I cannot remember her face clearly and I can stifle but my tears. Her smile in my mind seems cynical now, mocking at me that I couldn't recall her by face. Or else it was kind and assuring as if she was implying that the memory of her face was somewhere that I hadn't looked yet. Father never kept a picture of her since she died so I only counted on what I could remember.

The woman gives me a startled look when I open my eyes. I can see her guard around me lower at the glimmer of unshed tears in my eyes but she does not speak.

I massage my clenched throat, "Where did these flowers come from?" I ask. She gives me a look as though she hadn't expected me to ask such a bland question from one of high nobility. But she replies cautiously as if I was setting up a trap, "From the country side. We grow them in our garden and bring them here to sell."

I detect a faint pride as she speaks. Her bosom inflates ever so slightly in self confidence.

"_Bellissima._" I lift up a white lily and breathe it in once more, hoping that I never forget its scent.

"It is strange that someone such as your title would choose such a flower." I look up at her amazed that she spoke to me. But her words confuse me.

"Does this flower symbolize something?"

"All flowers do." replied the woman oddly, "It means innocence, one who doesn't know of the danger yet to come."

I stare at her. For a moment she is in deep though but then seeing my eyes, her cheeks fill with blood in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I...I get carried away sometimes. Mi dispiace."

I shake my head, "No. It's alright. I didn't know that." I reached in my small coin purse and take out five gold coins more then what it is priced. The women stares baffled at the extra coins, she scoops up the money and opens her mouth to speak as if to stop me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I see a plumage of a patrolling guard, shining in polished armor, I quickly silence her by holding out my hand to her face causing her to sputter.

"You have given me more then a beautiful flower," I say quickly but gently to assure her wide eyes, "I have memories of someone who once loved me fresh in my mind. And a history lesson." I added cheerfully. "It's yours and yours alone."

I glance sharply to my left and then to my right. Most people would find it strange to see a high lady giving a peasant more then what was due. I step back and give her an extra five gleaming coins, "For your silence."

I turn away before she thanks me but I do not need to. Her gratefulness shone in her eyes the moment the coins were in her hands.

I hurried to Lucrezia and her friends, cupping the flower in my hands. I stared at its simple beauty and quietly tucked it behind my ear. As I did so, my sister fixed her eyes past her giggling friends and on me. Her stare was so intense; I looked somewhere else but hoped she was staring at some guy behind me rather than me.

"What a charming weed you have behind your ear." She said. All at once, her entourage let out their laughter and I glowered despite their mirth.

"It's a white lily." I corrected her stonily. "It symbolizes innocence and is known for its beautiful scent—"

"Of course," Lucrezia said waving aside my protests like an annoying fly. One of her friends peeked at a building up ahead and something on her face brightened. She tapped her shoulder quickly and said something to Lucrezia, who in turn smiled mischievously and fixed her eyes on the distance. "Thanks for the boring lesson, sister dear, but I'm going to have some fun."

I stared as she transformed: her steps becoming larger, her hips emphasizing each swing causing a man to trip on his robes and knock into the person ahead of him. Her chin rose up a notch and coy smile twisted on her face battering her eyelashes suggestively, silently beckoning. I stared baffled by what she was doing and when her friends only laughed at the fools who fell for her seducing looks. One of them tried to imitate Lucrezia and I rubbed my eyes visualizing four Lucrezia's. I glared at the people around me, most of them too blind to see my fury. I set off after Lucrezia, the hem of my dress kicking up an inch off the ground as I ran. As I moved to stop her and her ways, I followed the line of vision that she and her friends eyed and I realized whom she was trying to set off. There were women there in front of a doorway, dressed in tight bodices and long, colorful gowns that showed their shaven legs entrancing most of the eyes of some men, who were drawn to them as if being pulled by invisible string. As they moved gracefully, I knew who they were.

They were the courtesans that Father had told Lucrezia and me when we became of age. He had said that they were the perfect example of commoner and how they were evil-hearted women who toyed with men's hearts, inflaming them in their desire and just a quickly, break their hearts.

But as I see it now, Lucrezia wasn't any different. She was as bold as they were but was twice perhaps crueler then they could be. The devil with an angel's face, that's what I believed.

My sister cleared her throat rather loudly, breaking some of the men drawn to them to look her way. It was as if they had seen an angel and I shut my eyes furiously. They left the girls, who stared horrified and murderously angry. Lucrezia's friends giggled and stepped back letting Lucrezia take spotlight.

As if she needed any.

I took the time the men needed to walk over and placed myself between them and their attention-getter. My body was shaking with rage, "How can you do such a disgusting thing!?" I hissed bitterly under my breath staring at my sister's eyes hard as rock. Her friends stared at me as if I was a lunatic but I was only focused on Lucrezia. I waved my hands behind me towards the men. "Men aren't toys you can just play around with!"

She looked at her fingertips finding them more interesting then me. "Oh _please._" She said quietly in an undertone. "It's not my fault that their not falling for me. I'm beautiful, after all unlike _someone…_" Her eyes prodded mine and that made me more furious. Not that I had been called 'ugly'. I knew that. I was no where as radiant as her or my mother or any other woman in the entire land of Italy.

"But _you _are the one who's tempting them! Giving them ideas of crazy things! Do you know what they want from you! They want to lie in bed with you, Lucrezia! And you're encouraging it!"

"Oh Irene…" She sounded as if she was an exhausted mother scolding like a meddlesome child. "Like I'd let them? Besides…none of them are _that _handsome for me."

Desperately, "You're teasing them! Father—"

"_Father _isn't here." Lucrezia said flatly. "What he doesn't see…he doesn't know. And if he does find this out, I'll hurt you more then you'll ever know!"

Wow. I couldn't imagine that. My life was already at its peak, there was not way it could be worse then being unloved by a cruel father and outshone by a sister who was actually a prostitute in royal flesh.

"Besides," she added. "I didn't almost let a stranger kiss me a month ago." I flushed red with both shame and revulsion. How dare she bring up something that only happened once?! Her eyes flashed behind me. "Excuse me." She muttered and it was the end of our discussion. I stepped back and could do nothing else but watch the madness that root.

The men stared at her, love struck, idled by her beauty. Lucrezia smiled softly, with a hint of menace. One of the men separated himself from the group, tall and a capped head with a mustache that curled at the ends of his mouth and said, "Where have you been all my life?" he asked drawing close to Lucrezia placing his hands on her waist. My gut seemed to coil in disgust and I nearly retched but I clasped my hands over my stomach preventing such an action.

"Waiting right here for you…_handsome,_" She said and I saw flushes of rage and envy pass through the men's faces.

She stepped forward into his arms and I saw the conflicting look in his eyes as he felt more of her then he expected. He was trapped, helpless like a mannequin guided by a puppeteer. She whispered something to him, trailing her fingers around his forehead, down his jaw and over his mustache that twittered and jumped at her touch. His eyes went to her face and shamefully at her breasts and back up.

"Are you busy, right now?" Her lips parted as she asked breathing against his mouth but not close enough to kiss. She drew back like a wave and every time her lips came close, he leaned in as if to kiss them, she would draw back. Taunting him and teasing him with a delight that he couldn't touch.

"Not right now." He said, mouth twitching.

"Oh goody…" she whispered, her fingers walking up his chest and circling a button. For a brief moment, madness flashed in his eyes.

I was red with anger watching the men who were seduced by the prostitutes found themselves even more helpless by Lucrezia's body. Behind them, the courtesans were glaring at us watching their prey being bedazzled by someone other then their group. From the near twenty that were there, only a few seven stayed all on one woman, dressed in a rich scarlet dress, in the middle as her partners struggled to regain their men. I lifted my head and stood on my toes briefly to see the face. Somehow in the crowd, she saw me so suddenly that I stared back at her startled at the venom it possessed. Her face is painted with makeup and was achingly beautiful as Lucrezia. Her flaxen locks are loose around her shoulders and run down her back, shining in the sun with lustrous sheen. Her blue eyes flash when her haughty face glowered at me and her red lips tightened. She turns without a single word to praise her loyal men with a winning smile. But I saw the look in her eyes that said it all: _"Nobles"_

"My lady! Lady Irene!" I looked back.

Lucrezia froze and her friends stopped their quiet giggles. Most of the men stopped their ogling. A slim body ran towards me from a carriage drawn my two white stallions and I recognized the emblem on the side of the coach at the distance. _My _family's crest.

My sister lowered her skirt hastily that I hadn't noticed was up and the man drew back his hand from her leg. Her face was white panicked. If a servant saw her and realized her for who she was, Father would no doubt hear about it. Lucreiza quickly turned her head and strode as quickly as she nonchalantly could away from the messenger with her friends behind her.

The man who Lucrezia had charmed stared at her baffled by her sudden departure. At least until one of the prostitutes saw this chance to take back what was once previously hers, tapped his shoulder and walked away, gathering a mass behind her. I let out a breath that I didn't realize I was holding and shuddered. My world returned to its daily rotation.

The servant ran up the steps and heaved in big breaths finally reaching my side. I stared at the prostitutes watching them giggle and laugh again and toy with their men as if Lucrezia had never existed. I bitterly wished that last statement to come true.

"Yes?" I asked patiently after I allow him to take a few breathers. He must have been running as he was looking for me.

He looks up: hazel eyes darting around suspiciously as if everyone around him was about to form a conspiracy to attack him. But he says quietly, "Lord Mercanti," My Father, "wishes for your company immediately. It is of the…" He pauses trying to remember the word specifically, "_uttermost_ importance.

I stare at him raising an eyebrow by his last two words. Father…wanted to see me? The words of the vendor suddenly came into my conscious. Something about innocence and being unaware of oncoming danger. The back hairs of my neck prickled wondering if it had some connection with why Father wanted me. Did I do something? But I nodded and raised my chin higher to hide my pain, "Take me to him."

A look of relief was visible on his face as though he expected otherwise. We walked down the steps and past the people and he helped me into the carriage. He shut the door after me and I listened as he swung up to sit up next to the driver and the carriage jolted to live with a crack of a whip. I glanced briefly to my right towards the woman who sold me the white lily around my ear. She was smiling towards her customer who was looking at the flowers with the same amazement I had. I smiled at her good fortune and leaned back on my seat content enough to listen to the gravel being crushed beneath the stallion's hooves.

The people's face passed us in a soft blur and the market atmosphere began quiet when we began traveling on a stone road. I tapped my finger on my lap trying to decipher why Father would want me so suddenly. It wasn't like him to call for me.

"Do you know why Father needed me?" I asked the messenger, half shouting from my lungs in an effort for him to hear me.

His answer took a while to arrive. "No, my Lady. He refused to share the details."

So like him, I thought. And I leaned in my seat eager to get out of the cramped carriage. I stared at the landscape and I felt a wash of anger flood over me. I saw images of Lucrezia and that man and her pointless teasing that she called flirting. How could she do such a horrid thing?

The thought of it sent my rage into a burning inferno. It was infuriating that she thought nothing of it at all but only that it amused her while she broke their hearts. I imagined a heart being similar to glass. After mother had died, Father's heart seemed to have shattered. And if that were true, then the hearts of the men that Lucrezia dealt with were also broken. But she was stepping on them with her heel shoes and smashing them into teeny tiny fragments where they would be broken forever.

I didn't know how long the thoughts consumed me and my time until we arrived to the front door. I jolted when the door swung back and the page's face was looking at me oddly but he didn't question. He held out a polite hand and I took it, stepping onto gravel with became stone steps that lead me to the front doors of my home.

The servants closed behind me and a man was there ready to assist me to father's chambers. I ask why Father summoned me but he answered, like the messenger, that he wasn't told. But he also said that it wasn't his business snoop around in leaving me curious and resentful at the sourness of the servant's tone. The daylight seeped through the clear glass window, casting out shadows long as we approached a double set door carved of fine mahogany. Despite its thickness, I could detect low voices inside but the wood muffled them making it hard to judge if the voices were masculine or feminine. My eyes studied the designs engraved thoughtfully as one of my escorts stepped in front of me and rapped his knuckles against the door and the voices cut off.

He twisted the knob and tipped his head in, "Your daughter is here as you requested, sir."

There was some inaudible reply to this but the servant bowed obediently with precise hearing and pulled back the door fully, bowing when I brushed past. The door closed a step after I entered and I couldn't help but to feel like I entered a prison cell then a study. I noticed Father straight away. He stood out in a fresh, bright red tunic, the color of ripe tomatoes against the gray walls but his back was to me. In small steps, I crossed the floor until I separated myself from a distance and folded my hands against my abdomen after I curtsied, "You summoned me, father?"

Ernesto turned and smiled broadly at me, "Ah, Irene. Good that you're here."

Father never smiled at me. _Never. _My eyes widened at his grin that contorted his face rather badly. His lips were stretched too thin, too filled with false love. A sense of panic aroused in my chest and I struggled to regain my calm composure. I lowered my eyes to hide the visible surprise. Out of the corner of my vision, I watched him take a step closer and closer. My heart was beating so badly I was sure it was going to beat out of my chest. I wondered about the lily that was around my ear and its symbolism, a fore sighting danger. My sense on him was high. I heard everything he did: Each breath, each riveting of a finger. My body stiffened waiting like I was, preparing for the beating as he reached for me—

Only to scoop his arm under mine, to led me towards his desk.

_What? No beating? No...No bruises…no anything? _My thoughts came out in choppy questions, all too confused to make sense but the feeling of being painless. I moved stiffly with each step, my legs rigid and bent awkwardly as my mind was lost astray in a daze. Father's arm on my arm felt strange as if it wasn't supposed to be there.

"She is as beautiful as you claimed, Ernesto."

My eyes suddenly snapped back into focus towards the voice that wasn't my Father's. It was then, that I noticed them completely. Two men, dressed in fine threaded tunics, were watching us, mostly me when Ernesto stopped. I studied them closely but not enough to cause attention. The white headed man was older then my father by many years. I could see the blue veins bulge beneath his fair skin as he raised his hand to scratch his trimmed beard. But there was something that made me restless in his piercing brown eyes, hard as stone. It seemed almost manipulating-like, a sinister emotion that crossed like shadows on his smiling face. The young man besides him had appeared dull in boredom but until his father spoke about me, he spotted me. Genuine surprise was brief of his handsome face, staring from behind the dark locks of his hair. But his eyes didn't stay there, they roamed freely over my body and if it wasn't for Father's arm that held me firmly in place, I would have bolted. The corners of his lips curled as he smirked, liking what he saw, and with voluptuous ease, he winked. Blood stung my cheeks and I turned my head determined to not be fooled by his flirtatious behavior.

The world spun as Father suddenly twirled me in a simple step of a dance. When my skirts settled, he turned his head to the two guests asking, "As you can see my gracious lords, a beautiful woman even in grace."

My heart thudded against my breast as his compliment that should have caused me to go giddy with joy. But the feeling wasn't of happiness. Something in his tone was light, lacking such affection, and I realized with a start that he was boasting.

"She is stunning." agreed the older man as if it was obvious. His eyes were on me again, observing me like I was made of fine marble. "What do you think, Alonso?" He directed towards his younger companion, who ran a hand through his short curls, his hair as dark as mine.

His eyes were on me again, trailing up and down like a lazy stroke of a cat's paw. At last he grinned with a glint in his eye, "I have no quarrels about her. But," He tapped his finger against his lip thoughtlessly, "there is something about her eyes. Does she possess your pride, Ernesto?"

I stiffened when he called Father by his name. The tone was friendly as though they had met more then once before. Had they met before?

Father himself went rigid. His eyes slid to me and we both knew that the look in my eyes wasn't pride, it was intellect. But if he wanted to round his fury on me, he didn't and only said calmly, "She has some pride." I hid my frown by directing it toward a painting on the wall. "But she knows a woman's place when she sees it."

Somehow that last sentence didn't seem justly. Alonso didn't answer but discreetly eyed me and my frowning mouth. Something in his eyes made the mental note.

"Ah, but where are our manners?" The older man said suddenly. He stood and stepped around the table and bent half of his body in a polite bow, Father released me. "I am Lord Carlo Grimaldi and this," he added waving a hand to the young man, "is my son, Alonso Grimaldi."

I curtsied, not to be polite but of forced habit. I guessed by how they looked at each other that they were family a few minutes ago.

"And you mustn't hassle yourself to introduce yourself, Lady Irene." Lord Grimaldi said then and I snapped my neck up twisting my face to hide my shock. His twinkling eyes mocked me, laughing at something I did not know.

I raised my hand and I wondered if I was about to strike him. But before I understood the motive of my hand, it jolted to my left, grabbed and I glanced sharply at Alonso's face only to watch him graze his lips over the back skin of my hand. The senses of my hand tingled. Very predictably, his eyes flew up to mine under his lashes. The bones in my body locked in place by the emotion in his gaze, so intent and potent, that it sent my skin crawling in unease.

"Lord Ernesto," I eyed Grimaldi flatly when he spoke Father's name. "I like what I see and I would be blind if I would say otherwise for Alonso."

It was strange how pleased Ernesto suddenly became. The tension that clouded his face in a shadows unpeeled leaving him bathing in what it seemed a new light. He nodded his head repeatedly, like a child getting a gift for his birthday and got what he wished most. At the radiant joy that suffused his features, I couldn't help but question his motives. I failed to see where the happiness was coming from. I glanced at Lord Grimaldi. Perhaps he was a famous customer? I couldn't guess.

"You are gracious, Lord Grimaldi." He offered a shaky hand towards his desk, "Shall we get started on this arrangement," He looked at me then.

_Why?_

But Grimaldi shook his head, "I'm afraid that Alonso and I are running late on time but we will arrive again tomorrow, no later then three o'clock. Does that suit you?"

Father nodded and reached into his breast pocket retrieving a bell and rang it once. The doors to his study opened simultaneously and the men who held open the doors, bowed politely. With a flourish of his cape, Lord Grimaldi walked out with my Father following faithfully behind his heels.

I stared after the two men, confused. Suddenly the floor seemed to spin as I was sent dancing and I landed heavily against Grimaldi's son, who grinned wickedly. I don't like being taken off guard but I inhaled reminding myself my obedience, I couldn't disappoint Father.

He cocked his head, "Oh? No, rough play?" he asked. I pursed my lips shut which seemed to amuse him like seeing a child with a temper tantrum. His hand squeezed lightly on my side, an inch below my beasts and I flushed hot with anger. I stirred and shook my shoulders to get free but I was a fool, he expected this and his holding on me became firmer and a bit painful.

I gasped without meaning to. I met his eyes angrily by his treatment. "I thought men you're age were supposed to learn how to handle a lady _delicately_." I muttered crossly. "Let me go now."

I expected his fingers to pry away from the parts of my sensitive skin but they did not and only gripped harder and relaxed, squeezing my sides that made me both want to shout in angry or laugh at the feeling it scent. I did neither but a soft chuckle escaped my tight lips.

Alonso grinned and I hated it. He leaned in close to my face and his breath was hot against my ear. I shivered at its closeness and tried not to remember the last time someone had done so. "I see that I found a weak link in your armor," He whispered. I could hear the mirth in his tone and I felt sick by him. "You'll be so fun to play with…"

If I had known what he was going to do, I would have hit him hard. But it happened too fast that I didn't know what had happened until I felt it. His finger snapped my jaw up and just as quickly, his lips, hot and hungry, pressed against my neck in an effort to claim me.

I let out gasp of rage and disgust and pressed the palms of my hands against his chest to shove him away but he did not budge and his mouth open and ran his tongue against my skin. I let out a muffled shriek for his hand suddenly pressed over my mouth. I shuddered and tried to shove him away with me. I opened my mouth and bit hard on the skin of his hand that he let out a shout and released me. I stepped back, my mind whirling by what he had just done to my neck, leaving that patch of skin violated.

Any man would have been furious to be rejected, so I had heard. But this man wasn't a man, he was a monster. His eyes, so brown that they were black, were on the bleeding wound and then on me and he threw his head back in amused laughter without a sound of broken pride. I stood shivering, reviled by his appearance. I glanced sharply at the doors only to discover that the servants that had been there were gone. I realized in fury that Alonso chose a good time when everyone was gone but them. He was clever, I admitted with repulsion.

At last his laughter settled and his dancing eyes landed on me. Then his body slouched and I tensed as if he was a creature about to spring. A smile twisted his lips, "You are the first to rebuke me." He didn't sound angry but rather the opposite that deepened my loathing further: Entertainment. "Most women who graciously enjoy it but _you_," he shook his head placing his hands on his hips. "You acted as if I was beast that was about to tear you throat out. I like that. I like it…_a lot._"

I bet you do, I thought venomously,

Alonso straightened his jacket with a sturdy tug. "You are most defiantly the one." I stared at him, mostly at his words that didn't make any sense. But he didn't notice my shock. Instead, he turned his heel and began walking towards the open entrance. I prayed that he would leave. But my hopes were short-lived before he stopped. Just barely, he turned his face, his curly locks bouncing.

"You don't…even know what I'm talking about, do you?"

I didn't answer and only glared in case this was one of his tricks. But a trickle of truth made me think otherwise when his face didn't show any sign of suppressed laughter. Alonso grinned at my silence but turned his back facing me.

"If you're curious…"

"I'm not." I retorted.

He let out a sigh like laugh and said something about how charming he thought I was before he said, "If it were me that wanted to know, I'd come back here around midnight. The guards usual do their long rounds by then and Ernesto usual has his files on his desk which won't make them hard to find..."

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought you weren't curious?" said Alonso. I shut up glaring at the floor.

Grinning madly, he walked away; I lifted my hand to my neck where he had kissed it. I felt dirty and used, even if it wasn't a lip locked kiss. Then a chill swept through me like a powerful gale that left me breathless. How did he know about a passageway in my own house that I didn't know? How did he know that this room was unlocked and where the papers were hidden?

The answer I thought of was simple.

This wasn't the only time they have met with Father.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

My eyes stare at the chicken breast on my plate before me, its portions cut smoothly by our chief's knife. I watch the steam from it flicker up and dissolve into the air carrying a mouthwatering aroma. But my mouth does not water at the feast set at the table; I only glare down at my meal. My fork plays idly with a green peas and I spin it round and round, my mind too deep in thoughts to focus on my stomach.

I listen to Father and Lucrezia speak, their words meaning nothing to me, but the atmpospehere carries their laughter throughout the room. I raise my eyes across the table where Lucrezia sits, glaring at her smile and at her perfection, and I wonder what she had been doing all day. Her clothes are pressed smooth but I couldn't be so certain. This morning felt like it happened centuries ago. My eyes leave her bouncing curls and to Father's face, who sat at my right. The skin around his eyes crinkle as he smiles and his white teeth flash as he threw back his head laughing hysterically at a joke I must have missed. Laughter bubbles up from my sister's throat. If only Father could see her for whom she actually was…

He lifts his head and I lower my eyes in case he spotted my calculating gaze. Out of the corner of my eyes, he leans back to snap his jeweled fingers summoning a servant with a pitcher of wine. As red wine fill the goblet without a drop spilled, he stuffs a slice of chicken in his mouth and chews listening to Lucrezia. He chortles and swallows before bringing the goblet to his lips sipping down the bitter wine.

I have never remembered seeing him so good natured in my life after Mother died. I wondered what this world was coming to before his brown eyes left his firstborn and onto me. I realize that I was looking at him and I hastily look at my filled plate. A hand brings an ivory bowl close to me, filled with picked grapes as green as the grasses of spring, and I pluck one out and toss it in my mouth. I lick at the juices that explode between my teeth. The servant places the bowl down in front of me and left as quietly as she arrived.

Thank the Lord for Lucrezia when she took Father's avid attention off me. "So Father…who were those two men who came to visit you?"

I lean towards Father pretending to be very interested at cutting my meat into small portions but curious to hear to his reply. He laughs goodheartedly and pauses to drink more of his crimson drink, "Lord Grimaldi? He is a very good friend of mine." Ernesto wiped his lips on the napkin near his wrist, "We were colleagues when we both were young. He heard about me and my business here in Florence and so he decided to pay a visit with his son."

"Son?" I saw the spark of interest in her eyes before she spoke it. She placed her chin on her folded fingertips looking up at him with a wide smile. I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes and drank in the wine from my cup.

Father nodded, "Alonso. He is an honorable man—"

The bitter taste of the wine took a sudden u-turn up my windpipe. I choked as the wine went towards my lungs instead of my stomach and I gasped. Quickly, a servant nearby pressed a cloth to my mouth and I coughed against it, my eyes watering at the pain in my chest. Finally the tremors in my shoulder settled out and my apology came out muffled. But I didn't trust myself to lower the napkin from my lips in case I had another outburst of anger.

In the entire ten minutes I had come to know Alonso, I knew that he was everything but honorable. He was disgusting and how his leer followed me. And how he played with women like puppets and how he used his charming looks to get them into his bed. I shuddered at the thoughts of how many women were tainted by him. Somehow those thoughts seemed familiar as though I had thought of them before...

My eyes went to Lucrezia who was chewing as Father explained something about the Grimaldi's that I ignored. Alonso was just like Lucrezia but in a man's body. Disgust in my mouth was vile and I quickly stuffed a piece of my forgotten meat into my mouth to digest it.

Midway in their conversation, a servant enters through the arched doorway and in quick strides crosses the floor to Father's side. Without a word, the messenger hands Father a letter sealed in wax. I'm not close enough to see the emblem imprinted on the stamp but Father gets to his feet and excuses himself from the meal and leaves with the servant tagging along.

I wait until Father's footsteps are long gone until I pick up my fork again to eat again. Lucrezia turns her eyes from the door and on my face. I look up at her and look away hoping she'll stare elsewhere but when I glance up to check; her infuriating eyes are still holding mine.

I swallowed, "What?"

She says nothing to the sharpness of my tone and says calmly, "What do you think of Alonso?"

His name sends my gut twisting into a knot but I ignore it though my face doesn't hide it. The glint in her eyes confirms it. I open my mouth to lie but the truth spills out instead, "I think he's a disgusting pig, and that he needs to be taught a lesson. And what I mean by lesson: challenged to a duel and stabbed in the heart." I knife my fork into the part of my portion viciously and shove it, unladylike, into my mouth.

Lucrezia bursts out laughing. My cheeks flush hot with shame but I continue chewing trying to focus on the window then her. What seems like days, her mirth subsides though tears glimmer at the corner of her eyes; she says very fascinated, "Is he really _that_ bad?"

I raise my hand to my mouth but it stops halfway, brushing against my neck for a moment, at a particular place that I remembered was savagely kissed and licked. I remind myself to bathe tonight as soon as the meal was over.

I am spared from answering my sister when Father reappears and takes his seat mumbling under his breath. I stand as he makes himself comfortable, my eyes hard on my sister's gleaming ones. "May I be excused, Father?"

He nods. My hair whips at my back as I strode away, my sister's eyes burning on my back. The conversation on the table starts once I slam the doors behind me.

* * *

_I sigh deeply at the warm water that secured me like a toasty blanket. The heat is sticky but tolerable and I lean further into my bathtub, submersing myself entirely before I breathe in for cold air. The aroma of lilacs hovers around the air and on me, enough so I can almost taste it on my tongue. I poke at the soap bubbles in the tub and let out a bubble of laughter. I hear mama laughing at me but I don't care._

_I closed by eyes as her fingers brushed gently through my hair, and inhale the scent of her arms that remind me of my bath "Mama?" _

"_Yes?"_

_I looked up at her, at her heart face and at her brown eyes that looked down at me. My stomach aches at her loveliness. She was more beautiful then the doll in my nursery. She smiled at me and began humming a soft song, tenderly unweaving the knots in my hair. As she sings, I notice something odd about her face. "Mama, are you sick?"_

_Her bright eyes don't loss its sparkle and I wonder if I imagined her thin complexion. "Irene," she says, "Do you remember what happened to Dono?" Dono, our family's dog. I nod. "He was old and was sick, but he is happy now."_

"_I miss him." I whispered. _

"_But he is always with you, right at your side." Mama's face presses warm against mine, "And soon I will at your side to and like him, you won't see me. You'll be a good girl for me, won't you?"_

"_Yes mama."_

* * *

My eyes open and my mother's scent fades along with the memory. I half expect her to be brushing my hair but I remember that she hasn't done that since I was six. I stare at the white lily that maids had graciously placed in a small vase. The longer I stare at it, a profound emptiness in my breast swells, and I lower the upper torso of my body back beneath the warm waters. I shut my eyes to stop the flow of the silent tears. I miss mother. I miss her touch and her love.

I was too young to understand that she was going to die until it happened and at that moment, I couldn't stop crying. But Lucrezia, a year older than men, was stronger then me and kept her tears from controlling her. That was the last time my father cried and it was that day when mama died that he began to hate me.

Downstairs I could hear the clear clinks of the plates that were being cleared from the table and the voices of gossip of the servants over it. I raised my fingers to my face absentmindedly and stared at the wrinkles at my fingertips. I reached to my left for a gleaming bell near the table and ring it once. The doors opened to the two female servants who carry towels in their arms. I stood up and out, the water dripping down my legs as my maids quickly place a towel around my body and my hair.

The door opens again to another female servant who pops her head in to see me, "My lady, someone wishes to see you."

My eyebrows become one as I ponder her words. "Who is it?"

"Your sister, my lady."

Lucrezia. I stifle my agitation not wishing her to see it. I give her a sharp nod of my chin granting her permission and she leaves. A servant drapes a robe over me to make me look presentable and I step out of the bathroom. She was sitting on my bed, her hair down and is dressed in her lacy nightgown, the only piece of clothing that doesn't reveal her bust. Lucrezia smiles at me and bids my servants away. I don't speak. Lucrezia tilts her head and waits for the footsteps to settle until she pins her eyes on me.

"So." She says, as though I know what she's thinking, which I don't.

"So what?" I ask wishing for her to leave.

Instead she props herself on my bed and rests her chin on her fingers watching me. I haven't seen her do such a childish thing since she was eight. Her slender legs kick in the air as she studies me. She giggles as if something in her head was funny. "I have a question for you,"

I sigh not wanting her teasing. But I answer blandly, "Sure."

"Is that _Alonso _guy really that bad?"

I realize that it's the same question she had asked me earlier at the table. I bit off the sharp retort on my lips and glower at her wondering her business as what I felt. I half wonder if father sent her to interrogate me but her pretty face doesn't show any signs of deception. But then again, she is a great actress when it comes to lying…

"Yes." I reply finally. "He's a disgusting man, there, happy?"

Lucrezia looked as if she wished for another outburst or some more juicer thoughts. Her smile twists into a less-then-happy line, "Not quite…" But she perks up quickly, "But he _is _handsome, really sister, won't you reconsider?"

I struggle as I am washed with boiling rage. "No!" I snap. I feel something break in me, the snap I've been waiting for, "Even if he is handsome as you claim, there is no way I'd want to be in the same _room_ with _him_! He's a womanizer, Lucrezia! A man who's revolting even to look at!" I fold my arms proving my point. Then I bite my lip at rage with myself for telling her my thoughts _again. _Yet the emotion on Lucrezia's face stops my ferocity from showing.

A glazing triumph lights her eyes, sparked by mechanical laughter that curves her lips in a devilish grin. Just as quickly, her mirth fades and she looks grief-stricken on the floor, "That's too bad…" she whispers stroking her hair.

"What?" I demand.

She gets up from my bed and gets back on her feet and puts her back to me. My sister hugs her waist, "I…I can't tell you…" She sounds as if she was about to cry but I know she's faking. I demand her to tell me anyway and she lets out a heavy sigh. "Alright…but Father's going to be _very_ angry at me…"_As if. _I thought spitefully, _The only one he's ever gotten angry at is me! _"Do you know why the Grimaldi's are coming back tomorrow?"

I stare at her baffled by her question. I rub my arms feeling cold as though the air had become icy. "Lord Grimaldi is going to sign something." I mumble, remembering Father's peculiar joy. "So what?"

"So what?" Lucrezia turns on me then, her eyes wide and tearless and her face fixed with a wide grin, "You have no idea what's going on do you? Father's been talking about it ever since you left! You _should_ have seen him," She adds positively glowing, "He has never looked so excited!" A sinking feeling envelops my heart and a dread of horror washes of me before I know what the reason is. I feel faint as if I could collapse right here and now. As if it was the world's most secret of secrets, Lucrezia leans into my ear and whispers, "The reason why they are coming tomorrow, is that Father is going have you marry Alonso. His going to sell your hand and have you betrothed!"

I open my mouth but I can't muster a scream. I take a step back taking in her triumphant façade. I knock back into my desk and grip the wooden desk for support, "N-no…you're…you're lying!" I spit at her as she makes her way to the door. "Father wouldn't do that!"

"Am I?" she asks smiling and she closes the door behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I open my eyes to darkness. I stare hard at the shadow filled corners of my room, half wondering if there was someone there but detect no other presence besides mine. My breath comes out ragged from my mouth and I realize that my arms covered in cold sweat. I shake violently beneath the covers and a wave of nausea shudders over me and all the way down to my stomach that seems to twist in unimaginable ways.

Because I had dreamt that Alonso's lips were pressed against mine.

That notion disgusted me and clutched the sheets tugging them over my head hoping to succumb to the warm clutches of sleep again. But I only see more darkness, and the nightmare's cold touch hadn't faded. I breathe in hot air beneath the blankets. What Lucrezia said haunted me even though it had happened hours ago. I couldn't imagine Father doing such a thing, or perhaps I was too blind, too oblivious to his the wheels turning in his head. Groaning, I toss the covers away, completely awake, and I sit up ignoring the cold night that bite at my skin. The cold floor numbs my feet as I swing my legs to the side of the bed to get up.

But where was I planning to go?

My body knew and it responded not with words but by actions. I crossed the floor using my memories to guide me around my bedroom. I grope in the air, reaching for things that aren't there again and again as I blindly search in the dark. At last, my hand touch what they were hunting for and I feel the lace of the curtains that are drawn over my windows. I pull the fabric back letting in the silver moonlight that pours through the glass window and stretches my shadow on the floor. The room lightens considerably and I strode towards my desk and sit down before I pull at the secret compartment. It opens smoothly to my surprise for I expected a few decent tugs but once I hold up my leather journal, my mind becomes clear with bliss. I take out the inkwell and my quill and take out the stopper. My finger hooks around the candlewick and I'm tempted to light it but I don't in fear if a wandering servant should come across my early wake-up call. I flip the pages aside, skimming past dates until I come across a section that I had inscribed earlier. Besides the date dyed in black ink, there is just a sentence.

_She is lying. There is no way that she can be telling to truth. _

The rest of the parchment is blank because I couldn't think of anything to write about, my mind was too confused to think. But now I had so many words in my mind but I couldn't think of how to start. I grab my quill and dip the tip into the inkwell but am careful not to make a sound. The words flow from my mind, though the feather and onto the page, as smooth a gentle river.

_I had a horrible dream tonight though it started out beautifully. I dreamt that I in some fancy estate, where its gardens were lush with life and the sky was a sapphire blue and stretched over my head, stretching towards the far corners of the land. The steps were finely crafted of the finest marble as the architecture of the building appeared as if it was chiseled by the hand of God Himself. It seemed like paradise or else I had found a gateway into heaven. Everything spun before my eyes and I felt hands at my waist that guided me in a dance in the courtyard. It was _him._ That…monster…that brute of a man, Alonso. I fought to be free from his groping hands but he held onto me tighter, laughing at me. And that teasing mouth of his pressed to mine, as bitter as sour grapes and disgusting. _

_I can't remember having a nightmare as worse as that since now. No doubt because of Lucrezia's nonsense but yet I cannot shake the feeling that she is up to her evil ways…_

I shake my head in anger and press myself to write more.

_But somehow it seems to click in with everything. Why Father was strangely happy and why he hadn't even placed a hand on me! But I hope that there is a different reason. Mother in heaven, I can't sleep and I hope your watching me and feeling my pain. More then ever, I wish you were here in the flesh so you could hug me like you use to._

My hand that holds the quill begins to shake and I place my hand to my mouth to prevent me from making an audible sob. My throat painfully tightens and it becomes difficult to breathe properly. Tears film my eyes but they do not fall by my once of will. I wipe them off with my arm and continue.

_My curiosity is inevitable as is the knowledge of a sleepless night. I cannot return to my dreams because I'm afraid I'll dream and he'll be in it. _

I look away from my journal and towards the door.

_I need to find out what's going on. Father won't tell me and even if Lucrezia did tell me, I don't believe her. I can't trust her after all the things she does. Oh Mother, if only you could see what she has become. _

_Alonso said something about a passageway that led into Father's study that could avoid the guards. I cannot be certain if it is a trap but I have no choice. There is no one here I can trust, no maid could stay loyal to me under the oath of my Father. If I'm successful, I don't know what I'll do. But I hope in the bottom of my heart that my search doesn't fall too short of my expectations or fails to say the least. Mother, pray for me._

The leather cover shuts silently and I hold it close to my heart.

* * *

Alonso's words prove true as I overlook the balcony from the second floor. The shadows cast from the dazzling moonlight cloak the corners and stray far. I study a giant figure beneath me garbed entirely in metal armor from head to toe. In his hand is a heavy mace, a weapon that gleamed too bright for my tastes. I suppress any sound I intended to make to show my exhaustion. He looks around the floor around him but not above where I'm at. When there is no other sound but the footsteps of the other patrolling guard, he glances around once more before he turns and walks away. I let out a quiet breath relieve by the tense atmosphere that made my muscles rigid and I turn to my left to head down the steps that come down and around to the entrance, the same doorway he had been in front of. But now that stage was clear, and I could continue before I would encounter another heavy guard.

The hallways are quiet and I tiptoe in the shadows. I care little about my stealth but I worry at what I'm wearing: a white nightgown that was no different in shadows then a white ghost. I prayed that if a guard should spot me, he would be afraid that I was a ghost of a deceased lady and flee. As foolish as it sounded, I had a slim wish but I didn't rely on it.

I skid to a stop and I press my backside against the wall as my ears catch a sound before my eyes could locate its source. I don't move. I glimpse one of those heavy plated guards again but to my relief and luck, he doesn't stay in place. His moves are too careless and his guard seems to be at an all time low. His helmed face swings past where I'm hiding but don't linger and he turns with a spin of his heel towards the corridor he just entered. I step away from the wall and glance down before I quickly scamper across in bare light and back into shadow.

My mind keeps me on my toes as some of the passageways pop out to me and strike a cord of familiarity in my memory. At last I turn the corner at my right and I find myself staring down the dark hall and at its end, I see the doors to my Father's study that seems to glow like it was sealing a great light inside. I don't smile despite the luck I'm having. I make up my mind that once I get back to my room without being caught, _then _I can celebrate. Or cry depending on what I find.

"Who's there?"

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle and without a thought I fling myself against the wall, behind a table that holds a vase of lilies. A guard is there; obviously sharp minded then the last one, and my heart beats rapidly when he demands again. I close my eyes and wish that the wall can envelope me. My sense of him is profound as he swings around and places a hand on the double-bladed axe at his hip and a cautious grip on the spear in the other. His head revolves slowly around the room and panic pricks my heart when I remember my white nightdress. He almost looks my way. I peek at the white linen tablecloth that covers the table and I quietly crawl beneath it. But I am too slow and his head snaps at my direction.

"_Fermata ragione_!" Stop right there!

_Oh for the merciful love of God! _I secure myself and I am shaking when I hear him make his way over. I pray he hasn't seen me but his tone sounded like he had. I clamp my mouth shut and I continue to listen. The sound of the chain mail beneath his armor stops scrapping and I crack an eye to open. I stare at his feet, less then a foot from mine. The air seems to go still as I watch as his fingers slowly grasp the hem of the tablecloth and hoist it up. My body becomes smaller and I wait for to see the eyeholes of his helmet. But I don't see a face when the cloth stops rising.

It's a spear head.

I duck before the thought comes to mind and the spear skims past my left ear and taps the wall behind me. I am too terrified to scream and I am lucky that I kept my mouth shut or else I would have been heard. My heart beats rapidly in my breast, sending powerful jolts in my veins and my head pounds harder. I do not breathe. Slowly the point of the sharp weapon draws back and I pray that he does not attempt it again.

"Stupid dark…" he mutters indignantly. The tablecloth drops and his heels turn to walk away, "Messing with my head…"

I don't know how long I sit there even after he leaves. A part of me, my more determined side is pushing me to continue but the shock of the experience still has a hold on me. I inhale the night air and I wipe my mouth tasting blood. I realize that I bit my lip too hard. I crawl back out of the table and glance around and hear for any approaching guards. When I do not, I chide myself at my thoughtlessness that had almost got me caught. I stand up and run. My hand slides down the smooth wood and wraps around the handle and I put back very slowly. The hinges have been cleaned well but as I pull back farther, a squeal erupts from it and I freeze. I cast a quick glance back but I don't see anyone or hear exclaims of surprise. I glare hard at the door as if it was a person and I peek in through the crack and observe it calculating a way to get in without disrupting it again. I look at my body and back at the crack. Suddenly after all the times of wishing I had a bigger bust that made mine look so small to Lucrezia's, I was thankful. The door rubs against my thigh as I weasel in. At last I pop free from the crack and I keep a proper hold on my footing in an effort to not make a sound. Breathing heavily, I glance back and relief fills my heart as I stare at where I had once been.

Bars of the light spill into the door way and I only see the outlines of dark shapes. I stare at the area beyond the desk long and hard, making it burn into my memory. Once I can get the picture of it in my mind, I shut the door and everything blotches out into a dark mass. My chest feels tight and I feel as if I am suffocating but I swallow and step forward and follow the image I remembered. I reach with my hands again, and grasp in handfuls of air. At first, I get a sense of panic because I did not feel what I knew was there. Had I taken a misstep? And if I had, what part of the room was I in? What happens if I was stuck in this room till morning? The darkness was caving down at me and my lungs couldn't get enough air to supply me. I reached out again and my fingers touched cloth. My panic breaks apart in my mind like shattered glass and I grab a handful of the drape and stifle a cry. I knew I was breaking apart by the stress, and I was barely holding myself together from falling to the ground. Seizing the all the strength I have in me, I yank back the drapes a crack. That light that spills from the window and onto my face blinds me to its radiance. I step back and gaze on the wood desk, a few yards away from me, beckoning me to open its secrets.

As I draw near, the loyalty to my Father begins to have doubts. What if I find what I'm searching only gives me more grief? _Grief or not, I didn't come all this way to back down! _I thought stubbornly. I yank the draws back and rummage through the documents. Excitement makes me eager, and being eager fuels my search. Father had never let me in his study without permission, let alone let me handle anything with our family crest. I was the second born. Despite all the things he had thrown at me: insults, punishments, _I_, his second daughter, had broken into his study and had gotten past the guards like an expert thief.

I shut the drawers, and move on. Dates on the documents burn out at me, none of them catching my eye. As I slam the cabinet shut, another fail search, and as I pull at the last one, I stare breathless.

A parchment is stacked on top of the others, written by my Father's hand and some other words written not by him, but another. I see my name at the top, my full name: _Irene Alessia Del Signore_ and my eyes follow the sentence and flow to the next.

_Irene Mercanti the second-born daughter of Ernesto Mercanti is to wed the son of Grimaldi come the follow year when come the Eve of her seventeenth birthday… _

My fingers shook as the words continued to burn into my brain. I read the line over and over. A wave of horror, of disgust, washed over me and I felt as if my skin was burning in acid. The document tells about a dowry and an alliance between the two families. But as much as my eyes look over it, my mind cannot comprehend any of it. If my mind had been clear then, I would have notice a shadow at my door that quickly disappeared.

The world in my eyes spins. I gasp and my legs buckle beneath me. The ground rushes up to meet me. Hot tears escape my eyes and drip upon the floor and trailing down my cheek in a continuous stream.

_Lucrezia was right…_I close my eyes and my shoulder begin to shake as I hold myself back from letting out loud sobs that could give away my location. _But why should I care whether I'm found or not? _A voice in my head asks dryly.

_Because what would happen if Father found out? _I answered my conscious.

_The father that sold you like a toy? That father?! _

I stare at the document and my hands tingle to rip it apart. I grab it and bring it to me, staring at its penmanship, disgusted and obliterated. Somehow I get to my feet and I find the strength to hold back the remaining reservoirs of tears from spilling. My hand trembling, I pull back the drawer. As I draw back an inch, I hear something, something heavy against ground like a loud thud. I glance around me.

The doors suddenly slam open and my heart flies up my throat. Bulky figures, with their armor gleaming from head to toe in the moonlight, barricade the door, my only exit.

"GRAB HER!" One of them shouts.

Three of them lunge for me and a startled cry escapes my lips and I sidestep to avoid one's reach. I notice that none of them reach for the weapons and that I feel relieved. I run to the window, staring at the three giant masses in front of me. A gauntlet grabs my arm and squeezes hard causing it to hurt.

"Let go of me!" I yell at him. I kick him hard in the shin but it doesn't get him to release me. "Let me go!" I demanded hotly as he painfully pulls at my wrist and tugs me at his side.

"What are you doing up so late, my Lady?" He speaks curtly but his voice his rough and harsh demanding answers from his Master's daughter.

"It's none of your concern!" I snap back at him.

He cocks his helmed head towards the desk; one of them, slimmer then his companions runs to the desk and proceeds to check for anything out of place. The guards are silent around me, watching the small guard poke through.

The guard holding my wrist jangles me violently, "If you took anything…" he growls.

"Sir!" piped up the other guard.

He stops threatening me and looks as the man holds up the document. He doesn't look at what it contains, and he is wise enough not to. "So. Rummaging through your Father's stuff, eh? What did you plan to do? Sell it to the highest bidder for profit?"

I am a taken back by his outrageous proclaim. I open my mouth and shout back at him just as viciously, "How dare you accusing me of stealing something of his!? Only a fool or a thief would do such a thing and I am neither!"

"We'll just see about that!" snarls the guard. I glower at him acidly. He _better _be fired. He motions the remaining men at attention, "You!" he says to the slim man who must be a messenger by his athletic physique, "Go to my Lord and tell him of the break-in."

The man nods affirmative and runs off. I stare after him as a feeling of dread makes me frozen stiff. "My-my father?" I ask.

"Move along." Says the guard hoarsely. The stinging of my wrist makes me move as he tugs me away.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey reviewers! Got Assassin's Creed 2 if you must know like I said the last chapter ago! It IS AWESOME! Haven't finished it but I like what I'm playing right now. Last chapter I said that I 'might not be able to update alot' and I might have to reconsider it now! Playing the game gave me ideas! But I don't know yet whether I'll be a fast updater. *shrug*

**But anyways, I'll be adding Italian words/sentences/comments in this story and depending how I feel, I'll either place its meaning before/after the chapter or else have it written in** _Italic _**font as shown besides it!!!!**

Ha, Italic. Italy. Italian. Nice.

~_Animangame02freak_

* * *

Chapter Seven

The guards don't speak to me and that makes our walk to Father's bedroom more aggravating and impatient. I glance up at their helmed faces, all of them towering over then me by a foot. The night feels very cold now, and as I gaze longingly at the paintings that pass by my entourage, I cannot help to imagine that I am a prisoner before being sentenced. The captain, a burly, not to mention rude, man holds up a gauntlet and curls his fist in a wordless command and the guards stop. My feet plant on the carpet obediently. The doors before us are closed but slipping through the slim cracks, I can hear voices. One of them is nervous, no doubt the messenger and he stumbles with his words. His statement goes unanswered for a few seconds until a smooth voice respites the silence. I recognize the other speaker easily.

"He's on his way now sir…" said the messenger after my father had said something inaudible. "And yes, sir, he has the intruder with him…not harmed…"

The captain walks to the door and tabs the back of his knuckles against Father's door. There's a muffled squeak inside: the messenger. My eyes slid from the captain's masked face to the carpet where I see a line of light peeking under the door. Two slender shadows cast against the floor and the door pulls back. I snap my eyes up. The guard looks relieved to see us, mostly the Captain, and then his eyes fix shrewdly on mine. His lips crack a smile and twitches at the end. He stands aside and brings the door fully open.

My body snaps frozen stiff and I don't ever breathe. I stare at the halo of warm light flickering against the floor as a prick of fright finally begins to take hold. My calm composure I had planned so hard to maintain breaks. I am broken from my spell when one of the guards shoves my back to make me move.

The door clicks behind me and I stifle a swallow. I don't look at Father. But I cannot shake the sense of him, not stop smelling his favorite cologne that still lingered in the air. I stare around the room, catching its familiarity that pick out strands of my memory. I have no happy times in this room, only pain. The heath nearby lets out a pleasant glow against the shadow crossed room. I stare at the flickering flames hoping to feel comforted by its warmth but a frigid cold seeps through my skin and into my bones. How could I feel so cold when I was next to a fire?

The messenger passes me at this thought and marches in front of us. His posture straightens and he brings his heels together snapping his shoulders back and said, "The intruder, sir."

I raise my head and my father's eyes meet mine. His face is pale and he looks very tired and old then but despite all, there is something how he carries himself that makes him imposing. Father looks at me as if had expected someone else and his eyes flicking between the captain and me further question his doubt. But his captain's body remains unyielding and stiff.

"Irene?" He asks slowly.

"She was found looking through your things sir." said the captain blandly reaching into his belt. There is a sound made: one of a paper being disturbed, and suddenly he holds out a document I know too well to my father's face. "We managed to find _this _in her hands."

With wide eyes, Father reaches for the parchment and it shakes in his hands as he holds it. I watch as his gaze darts across the content it holds and something flickers in his eyes. Recognition? Surprise? Anger? His face was too composed for me to guess. His mouth forms a thin line and draws down into a frown that I know is contempt.

With a bark of an order, the guards cluster together and all of them including the captain and the messenger swear secrecy and with a turn of their heels, leave the room. The click of the lock fills the room and when it fades, small pops from the health fill the gap.

"How could you…" he whispers. He turns his body halfway and places the marriage document on the end of his bed delicately as if it was a newborn. His tenderness for a piece of paper wounds me as if he had physically slapped me. I bite my lip and to try and hide my weakness, clutch my fist at my side and glare at the carpet, that in the light of the fire, makes it look as if I'm standing on a carpet soaked in blood. His eyes are wide with disbelief and he places his fingers to his temple to rub the tension away. "You…would go so far…"

"How could _you_?!" I shouted. My heart beat rang loud inn my ears as gushes of adrenaline rain through the current of my veins. My sudden outburst acted like a blow to my father, paling him in his nightclothes and giving his eyes a glassy expression but neither did I see. I was beside myself in fury. The thought at being given away by a sheet of paper was enough for me to shout: "How could _you, _my own _father_, give me away like I was an item? You never even bothered to ask me what _I _thought or what _I _wanted!" Hot tears of hurt spill from my eyes and I find myself struggling from breaking down altogether.

At my misery, Father recovers as if seeing my composure crumble strengthen him, "You are a woman." He said stonily.

"I am your daughter!"

He did not deny this. "Do you realize how this marriage is helping our family?" He said. "We will be united with one of the most powerful families in Italy. You should be grateful for this opportunity! Most girls your age would die for this chance!"

I raise my head and wipe the wet tracks from my cheeks, "I am not like other girls…" I whispered to myself. I said, louder, "But isn't the idea of marriage supposed to be about love? I _cannot,_" I emphasized this heavily, "love a man like Alonso. Father…please, reconsider. You have another daughter! Lucrezia is known for her beauty all across the land; surely she is a better match than I to the heir of a noble family! _Please_ Father!"

"You forget your place," Father said in a clipped voice, his face twisted up as if he bit into a fruit that was not yet ripe, "Women serve as a bridge between noble families. It is about status, Irene, _not _love."

The water in my eyes threatens to spill again, but I choke them down along with the lump in my throat. I open my mouth but I cannot utter a word, his words pierced into my heart making it painful to breathe. How could someone live a life when they feel nothing but hate?

Father tugs at his nightclothes and stares longingly at the heath, "I tried to make him choose Lucrezia." He admitted after a long pause, "I told her of her vast beauty and of her exceeding obedience as far women go." _If only you really knew, _I thought to him bitterly. "But he said that he had heard of me having another daughter, one that he did not know nor heard about, and he questioned about you. I told him that you were _different,_" He twisted the word in his mouth, "And as much as I changed the topic from you to your sister, he only pressed for more about you. And he liked what he saw yesterday, he told me that before he and his father left by carriage. He said that he wanted _you_, Irene,youand _only _you as his bride."

Revile fills my mouth and I swallow it disgusted. It isn't his words that sicken me, but rather it is Alonso who so quickly had my _father _eating out of the palm of his hands with his sweet talk. I take a step closer and another, begging, "Father…reconsider his request. I am a second born, and I shouldn't be given to the heir to the family when Lucrezia herself has yet to marry…"

"I cannot do such a thing! I would lose all our ties and our honor…" He replies. He faces to me, his face emotionless and suppressed of all thought. His eyes are on me, long and hard, almost desperatly, "I need you more than ever, Irene. Times are going to change soon and we'll need allies when that change arrives! You are the shining future."

"I am only a tool." I spit out.

The corner of his mouth twitches at my retort, "I am your father, I can whatever I wish…" Father walks towards me and towers over me, his very presence demanding proper respect and obedience, "I won't have you mess this up!" I turn my head away from his stubbornly but his fingers savagely grasp my chin to pull me back. I cringe from its hard squeeze. He snarled at my defiance, "Listen to me: I've had enough of this feminine pride of yours for too long! Not when this '_pride'_ could cost us an ally and a seat of power!" He practically spits in my face, "You will behave, starting now, a respectable woman, my obedient daughter who will be the perfect wife to the heir of Grimaldi!"

I met his eyes dauntlessly and my voice says blandly, "I would be wearing a mask no differently than one I wore months ago."

His fingers on my chin tighten then and suddenly he shoves me back as if touching me burned him. I clawed at the air, trying to find something to keep me standing but to no success. I collapse against the floor and my muscles tingle up my back and my rear end. I sit up, ignoring the painful swelling.

"Enough." Father whispers hoarsely. His tone of voice had changed. The fight in his stance and words were almost gone, succumbing to the needs of sleep. A dull throbbing in my head confirmed my own state. The room losses its clarity and falls into a blur as my conscious nearly slips in and out of focus. "They are coming today and you _will_ be there to greet your fiancée." He calls for the guards and the doors open. The armored brutes aren't with them and neither is the messenger. "Portarla nella sua stanza" he tells them. _Take her to her room._

They nod simultaneously at his request and they both bend over and scoop their arms undermine and bring me back to my feet. I let them lead me. We make it towards the door when my father says: "Bloccare le porte solo nel caso in cui" _Lock the doors…just in case. _

Both of their heads bow considering his order but as they take a step forward, I plant my feet and they stop. A thought caught my attention and I turn my head just an inch to glimpse back at my father. He wasn't watching me go as I had presumed. Instead, his eyes were fastened on the document as he picked it up and moved across the room to place it on his desk, away from the fire's reach.

"Father?'

"Cosa?" _What?_

I ignored how harsh his voice addressed me: an abomination. And though I knew that for so many years, it acted as a dull ache in my heart. "You said that women were like bridges between noble families." I said, "And you said that it was all about status and not love. Is that true?"

"Si." _Yes. _"Why?"

"Is that what Mother was to you? An object?"

He doesn't answer. I bit my lip at his silence, a silence that is taken up by the flickering crackle of the dancing heath, and my heart in my ribcage becomes heavy as lead. Crestfallen, I turn my head, my eyes brimming what seems like the hundredth time with tears. I don't know how much sorrow I can take. With a soft request, I tell my guards to keep moving, I would have taken the first step myself but I was too weary with sadness and exhaustion that I was incapable. Without a whisper of a goodnight, I let the guards take me and the silence in my father's room continues until it is broken by the sharp lock of the door that closed quietly behind us.


	8. Chapter 8

For those who are wondering about Ezio, he's coming. I just want this story to focus on Irene and her troubles before she comes to meet him in person. Sorry for this slow update, jeez, time flew...this chapter may be choppy since I'm dead tired.

I finally discovered how Ezio's name is used. First name. Last name. Then place of birth. So instead of Irene Alessia Del Signore, I may change it to Irene Mercanti (means 'merchant' in italian since her father is a merchant') Not going to add the 'da Firienze' though.

~_Animangame02freak_

Chapter Eight

I wince when the servant's quick hands tug at my hair to pin it back. The pain erupts from the roots of my scalp and I nearly give in to snapping my hand back to stop her. But I don't, and only hold fast to my waning patience. My short temper isn't because of the female, who had recently dressed me in a revolting, tight chest gown, but rather waking up earlier this morning with my face wet with tears. Everything from the past night hit me like a slap in the face. The strings at the back of the gown tightened, and I stifled a breath as she tugged firmly. The hair, the dress, all of this was a stupid façade so I could get the unwanted attention of that _monster_ that wasarriving in less then a few minutes.

Outside my door, I heard the clinks of armor that rustled disturbed when heavy footsteps approached. There was scrapping of metal: the guard's assorted weaponry, and a sharp command. The door opened without my consent and standing in its path was my father. My female servant stopped what she was doing and bowed low at his presence. I, however, did nothing to acknowledge his existence. My blood was boiling, upset and angry, as I remembered Father's words. How mother must have felt if she had known….

His tunic was pressed and professionally stitched with shimmering threads. Despite all the glamour, his face ruined it for it was hard. With barely a twitch of his finger, the maid was back near me and added some finishing touches to the gown and hair. I gazed deeply into the mirror, staring at my own impossibly beautiful reflection, lost in her eyes. The stranger who simply watched me, showed none of her thoughts.

"They will be arriving very shortly," said Father shortly. I heard him but showed indifference. Ignoring me, he asked, "You know what you are to do?"

The woman's eyes in the mirror flashed bright with anger, but for a moment. I spoke, my voice monotone, "I know, Father." My role in the play was but a simply one. Once Father would come in with the Grimaldi family, I was to be right outside my door, near the balcony watching them. Father said that I was to be the personification of noble and beauty. I made a mental note that the job was taken by my sister, who strangely enough wasn't at home at the moment. I guessed that Father had sent her away so she wouldn't steal the Grimaldi's attention away from me. He was smart in that way. Barely, I turned my face to the bottles of perfume. If she was out in the streets, she was probably raking her body against a man's right now…

His person in the mirror stirred a little but enough to catch my eye. His face was still hard as the common rock; he nodded stiffly catching my eyes before he walked out, shutting the door behind him. The servant puffed fragrances around my neck and body, a tad at my hair. I forgot. After a second of consideration, she nodded her head affirming herself something and said very quietly, "It's done, _signora._"

I checked myself barely in the mirror, trying to ignore the fact that I hadn't heard her. Her face, looks a bit sad but she says perking up, "I hope he notices you."

_Of course you do, _I thought. She probably wanted me to acknowledge her gift for dressing and hairstyling, and ask her to go to Venice where the marriage will be held, and become my starred servant. I frowned at her confidence, at her blithe smile. "Well, it's nice." I admitted, careful to raise her self-confidence.

Her face crossed with emotion and I see a twinkle of disappointment, as though she expected a gushing reply instead. But I will have none of it, especially when I hear the sound of horses' whinnying outside, and below my window. I frown as I hear the hinges of the door squeak open and I visualize footsteps stepping back on ground.

I turn on her, standing tall, "Get my father, his guests have arrived."

Her face glows with the privilege but I shun my eyes pretending that I was blind to notice it. The door closes behind her and I focus outside. Very quietly, I step towards the open window, careful not to attain any attention. The sounds of the city are alive and flowing; I block out the voices of people and singing birds to focus on the low spoken words of the men below.

"Are you sure she's the one you want?" I recognized the dry voice that belonged to Lord Grimaldi. I lean closer, taking the chance to bend down closer. My lips pursed in censure as seeing their familiar forms. The intelligent part of my brain remarks that his voice sounded inquisitive and a bit rough as he said very firmly, as if in self denial. "Ernesto lies about his daughter. There is a pride in her that he's not so willing to reveal." He was angry, I realize.

"She's the one I want." My blood froze at my veins as Alonso replied. His voice, so confident and so warm, made my heart plummet from my ribcage and down into my stomach.

His father sighed, clucking his tongue with disapproval, "He has another daughter, more _beautiful_ then her. How can you ignore such radiance for some…?" He stopped for words, groping for them as if he was searching in the dark for a candle.

"_Don't _talk about _my _wife as if she was lower class." Alonso snarled at his father. My hand flew to my chest feeling it pound at the dripping acid in his tone. "He can keep _that _woman. _I _however want the second born." He sounded as he spoke the law and his father did not inquire again. The doors opened and I could hear my father greet them with exclaims of delight. If only he had been eavesdropping like I had…

I patted the gown's sides and inhaled. The dress the maids had put on me was ridiculous to say the least, and shamefully a bit seductive. It was red, red as the ripened tomatoes from the southern coast Father ships in. It dips low showing my shoulders. When a gentle breeze wafts into the room, my neck feels bare and I wished for a shawl to hide such exposure. But instead I was given heavy necklaces dotted with jewels that burn my skin with its frigid coldness. I walk to my dresser and snatch my fan hard and walk out of my room. I didn't stop until I was near the second floor balcony, overlooking the entry way like Father had ordered me to. I heard voices, and their footsteps bouncing off the walls with each step. I grip the laced-fan harder. I am surprised that it did not break. At last they appeared, chatting in a discussion I had no interest in. My eyes spot Alonso easy, who my Father was talking to. His lips were pursed smiling and nodded enigmatically but I could tell that he wasn't listening.

Father stopped talking and I feel his eyes crawl up to me; he notes my presence and said as though he hadn't planned it at all murmurs "Look who it is…" I flash my eyes down below the balcony to meet their eyes as if I was passing by at an unexpected time.

Senior Grimaldi fixed his stare upwards and holds me. He looks whatnot startled by my appearance as if he was looking at someone else. He leaned to my father and whispered something in his ear. Father's eyes widened briefly, suddenly cold and his face pinched with pain, but he eased and muttered a reply in an undertone. What had he said? They were too far away for me to see their lips from pronouncing the vowels clearly. Alonso's eyes, burning holes into my head, tear my wandering gaze to focus on him. A smirk twists his lips, full of cynical humor. _He's mocking me, _I thought sourly. His eyes grazed up and down my body like a painting, synchronizing my features as if to keep it in memory. There was a leer in them that chilled me to the bone. Suddenly, I was fortunate that Father hadn't placed me any closer.

Father looked at him pleased as though he expected a comment from him, "What do you think of her, Alonso?"

His face washed into a smooth composure and his eyes open again. His lust, his wants, his needs, disappeared entirely. He smiled like the gentleman my Father told me he was but I didn't believe, "She is very beautiful. I can't wait to see her presence…later." His eyes flicked back up to me.

Shoulders shaking with tension, I barely have enough composure to stare back. Father proceeds to walk away, senior Grimaldi follows, and after a few more seconds, Alonso tears his eyes away, but shows a smirk, to shadow the men. I don't stay; I quickly shove myself away from the balcony as if it burned me. I nearly trip over the hem of my dress as I scurry down the steps, finally as I reach level ground, I keep walking—or sprinting—towards the opposite direction where they just left. After bending around a series of hallways and servants, I finally approach a door that calls out to me in my hazy memories, pull back the handle and step in. The windows of the room are drawn, giving me light around the open, but abandoned room. The laughter I remember, the smell and all its happiness is but only a dream; this was once my nursery. In the shadowed corner, I remember with such clarity that there used to be a rocking chair where my mother used to sit as she watched me play. There was always a female servant with her, dressed in the whitest of white as if she were an angel besides a nurse. As I recollect, I realize how foolish I was not to read the signs of my mother's illness. Perhaps if I had noticed, maybe I wouldn't have wept so long, but maybe I would have cried harder knowing that I didn't do anything to help save her. The signs of life that were once here are gone: my toys, my innocence, and mother. Now all was left was a quiet room, clean but discarded.

Why had I come here? I will the bittersweet memories to envelope me once again and in them, I find the answer. My eyes wet, I stare longingly at the corner as if I tried to image mother there. When she was alive, I'd run to her, here in this same room, hoping that she'd make me feel better from whatever disturbed me. Perhaps today, even years of her passing, I had returned foolishly hoping that she would comfort me of everything I've suffered from and then I could tell her that I love her like I once used to. Mother's kind face, her gentle presence however, isn't the first thing I see. There is only an empty space; a haunting reminder of what has passed. It was only out of instinct that I came back.

I stare at the fan, raising it to my face, and instantly reality shatters through causing me to remember the reason why I was here. I remember too much that my hands shakes and I spin around with as much fury as I can muster and I throw the fan angrily. It strikes the door and bounces back to clatter against the cleaned floor; I stare at it and then storm around lost in an aggressive madness. My hands grope in the air and pull hard at fake ropes and I reach for things that aren't there. An overwhelming desire to breaking things takes me and I beat my hand in hopeless misery. The tears finally fall, and weeping, I slide down to the floor in a heap. I don't care who sees my wildness. What have I done to deserve this?! I try hard to remember, beating at my brain for answers. My mother's death…my acute sense of intelligence…and then…my thoughts stop in motion and freeze there. That man who I had danced with months ago, that stranger…Ever since I had met him, my life had gone downhill. I pondered this but I quickly denied any connection. It didn't matter who or what started it, I decided, it was too late to stop it.

Someone cleared his throat, and I turned around fuming. The guard steps back seeing my ferocity. For a long time, my eyes study his face, and it takes longer for me to realize that it is neither Father nor Alonso here to torment me. His face however his kind and he does not criticize me. He wears the regular suit of thin armor fit for a common guard, a sheathed rapier at his right side, and the barrette on his head. Ever since last night, my relationship with the sentries has been difficult. The memory of their betrayal burns as if I was bathing in acid. I narrow my eyes wondering what this man wanted, this soldier who still watches me patiently. He hunches his shoulders as if my gazes were knives, and he looks away, shy. With his eyes on the ground, he holds out his hands towards me. Inside his fist I realize the item to be my fan—the same one I had thrown away in anger only minutes before.

At the random act of kindness, I step back startled. I frown and study him from head to toe, wondering what sort of motive he could possibly have. Most of the servants do. Everything here comes with strings attached, there is nothing free. After a few seconds of silence, he lifts his eyes from his feet and looks at me curious why I hadn't taken it. Green eyes, soft as the grasses of spring, hold mine. I see his emotions clearly and his thoughts easily as if I was simply staring into a clear lake. His thoughtfulness stirs me and the ice in my heart melts and the water overflows, threatening to spill from my eyes again, but not of sadness but relief.

Ever since Mother died, I have been fighting to find some sort of hope that there was good in people. Now, this simple guard had reminded me of it. I stared at him as though he had grown wings of an angel. After I take the fan from his hand, I smile, dabbing my eyes with the edge of my sleeve muttering, "_Grazie._" He smiles and inclines his head; however I see the confusion in his eyes that dims his smile. "Are you one of the new guards here?" I ask realizing that I had never seen him before.

The solider nods, his hair, the color of straw bounces beneath his cap, "This is my first day." He replies, his voice as kind as his eyes. Kicking his foot against the ground, he adds somewhat embarrassed by telling me, "I saw you on the way to my post. You looked…_upset_…Is something bothering you, my lady?"

I laugh, partly out of joy that someone would even bother to ask me and secondly on how oblivious he was to ask me, his master's daughter, how she was doing. But I answer, "I'm alright now. I am just very…" A thought to keep myself guarded from saying things that may bite me back later quiets my words from my mouth. I shake my head cursing the barrier of status that acts as a wall for a common conversation. I reply firmly, "Things are hard for me right now…"

"Benito."

I stare at him confused. "Excuse me?"

"My name." He smiles, something that he never seems to stop doing, and he inclines his upper torso politely. He turns around to leave but a question blows against my mind. I tap by fan biting my lip whether I should ask.

"Wait! Why did you pick up my fan for me?"

Benito stops mid-step and swivels back to me. He cocks his head to the side, his expression astounded, "_Signora?_"

But I don't repeat my question, my eyes burning into his face questioning his actions. Benito fiddles with his tunic, and thinks for a long time. At last he replies, "My mother and I used to live in the country. She taught me to be polite and courteous with women, no matter their status, and when I saw your frustration, I remembered."

At such reverence, such adoration towards another female, his mother, my eyes pricked wishing that I could share the memories with him of my own mother. I smile to hide the envy and pain. "Thank you. I'll have to send her a letter of your kindness."

For the first time during our meeting, his green eyes grow wide with hurt. It looks so odd on him; it contorts his face rather badly. With an aimed kick to the ground, he says: "She is dead."

"Oh…" I look at my fan in my hands, suddenly heavy as lead. "Mi dispiace."

He smiles, albeit barely, but nods to reassure me or to lighten me again, "It's all right, signora. She lived a long, fruitful life."

_So he too lost his mother. _I thought sadly, sympathetic because I knew what it felt like to lose one. When I look back at Benito again, I cannot help but to smile at his full fledged grin. His face shows no trace of the earlier pain, I admire his fortitude and wish I could carry it as well as he did. He was eager like a dog, willing to please his masters with his enthusiasm and fidelity. At the warmth blossoming in my breast, I wonder, staring at him, if this is what it felt like to have a companion, someone you could trust on…_a friend._ The feeling was abnormal and alien to me; I poked at it as if I had discovered a sixth finger on my hand. This happiness I felt, who he gestured and how he spoke, made me feel as if my dark world had suddenly become bright. A slow creak of an opened door broke through my mind. My thoughts break apart as if I had been clubbed to my head. They scatter and struggle to reform back into a whole; I break my eyes off of my fan in my hands and look straight at the door; straight into Alonso's dark eyes. His face, even at a distance, is cold as he looks at the scene before him: his fiancée with a guard. I move an inch closer to Benito, who bowed his head toward the nobleman, to tell him my gratitude for picking up my fan, again. But perhaps, maybe, it wasn't to thank him at all. I had already done it once. No, it is something else. A sense of to protective had stirred in my heart even before I beheld Alonso's emotionless face. I was afraid, I realize, not for me personally but towards Benito himself…who had no idea who the noble was, why he was here, or even knew that I was to be engaged to him. When I blink again, my thoughts are running so quickly, I realize that Alonso's smiling at _me_. I step back out of an instinct. The kind guard looks at me and looks back at Alonso, who shuts the door, sealing us all in a small world where no one can see us.

"It's been a long time since we last met." said Alonso pleasantly walking towards us. _You mean yesterday? _I thought if reading my thoughts, his smile curls at the ends, "Come stai?" _How are you?_

My mouth tightens and I remain tall, refusing to bend to his presence. Somehow the word, "Bene." _Good, _escapes through my lips.

His lips breaks apart and he starts grinning madly at me, "So…I heard that you were curious after all…" I stare at him, speechless. Alonso laughs, and he plays with the curls framing his face. "You found the document didn't you? My, my, you take me by surprise…"

The events from last night flash before my eyes, and I glower at him. He holds his mirth filled smile. Alonso draws near us; Benito looks embarrassed to be here listening to the conversation. "How did you…"

"It's funny what sort of gossip people can give to a coin." said Alonso pleasantly. I twitched, ticked off by his clever endeavor. "What does it feel like?" His question draws me away from my thoughts to focus on him clearly. He is close, too close for my comfort. But his face suppresses all emotions as he drones on, "Delighted? Angry?" Clearly this is a rhetorical question and he says very softly, "It doesn't matter. You are mine now; you know it too. Ever since I saw you…" His eyes playfully flick up to mine. I study the seriousness in his gaze and am shocked by it. His fingers play idly under his short cape, almost absent-mindedly before he speaks again, "So don't think that you can start any sort of relationship with another man…"

I stare at him outraged by his claim, but his eyes are on Benito, watching every twitch of a muscle thoughtfully. Benito doesn't return his gaze and how fidgets in his spot embarrassed and keen to leave the room. Watching the collected emotion in Alonso's eyes that began to harden into something else, a realization snaps into focus in my brain and I shout out horrified. But as fast as the thought was I was too late. Alonso's hand pull back from his side, pulling out a decorated hilt of a sword I did not see, and drove it home into the Benito's stomach. The sound of armor being pierced and flesh being sunk into…my hands fly to my mouth horrified at Benito's eyes that grew unnaturally wide. For a moment, his green irises caught mine, and everything I known him to be, vanished as they fall into oblivion. Alonso brings the sword out, bringing out crimson gore that stained its blade, and Benito's body crumples to the ground.

His kind smile, his fervor to please…I can't forget it as I stare at his face, at his eyes that stare at the sky that he couldn't see. Watching an innocent life taken before my eyes, a fire spawns inside and I lash out at Alonso with as much fury as I shout: "What was that for?! He was only a simple guard!"

"Don't worry about him. I'll tell your father that he was making insulting comments at you so I help end them…" Alonso said, wiping the blood on the guard's tunic leaving his sword clean. His voice, how could it sounded so careless, _so_ _indifferent_ as if he had done nothing wrong!? He had killed an innocent man, and worse, was using _my own father _as a tool!

I threw a deranged gesture towards the body. "He picked up my fan for me! How in _any_ way could that be insulting?" I was shaking so violently, I was surprised that I hadn't fallen due to it. My eyes felt wet and I was near bursting into tears. I could not ignore the memory of Benito dying, his eyes wide with shock…wide with disbelief that he was going to die…I must have sobbed. I covered my mouth with but I swallowed back the tightness in my throat, my voice was low, "He was a kind man…more of a gentleman than you'll ever be…" My eyes flicked up to his, raging.

Alonso simply overlooks my anger as if I was a child throwing a tantrum. But there is something in his eyes, a hardness that also begins to settle on his mouth. "Did you love him?"

"Love him?" So this was out of jealousy?! I shake my head, "No, he was my friend! He had given me kindness, the thing that I thought I had lost years ago! And now—!" I wanted to say more, to tell him off as a monster. But as strong as my spite is, I close my mouth too frustrated to speak.

I ground my teeth together, seething in fury. I strode past him marching towards the door. My hands shake as I fumble to unlock the door and before I pull back the door, Alonso's hand presses hand against the door, slamming it in my face. His close proximity worsens my quickening heartbeat; I tug at the handle praying for God for strength. God must spit on me. He slams my shoulder forward and I fall against the door; somehow his hand is already on my shoulder, pressing my back into the wood and forces his lips against my cheek, too close to my lips. I gasp, and shove him back but I wince when I realize that his hands are painfully clutching my shoulders. He smiles into my skin as he spotted a weakness in my body, but whether he was deciding to be gracious just this once or if someone was coming, he pulled back.

"See, wasn't that—"

Without any thought, I had raised my hand, and slammed it against his cheek. The sound of my palm striking him echoed with a clear ring. Alonso stumbled back, pressing the back of his hand against his red cheek and pain inflames my hand. For a moment, neither of us spoke. My breathing labored heavily in my chest, and my arm barely shakes at the aftershock. Alonso eyes me calmly, dangerously, and straightens his back to his full height. He doesn't lung at me, nor does he advance towards me, but rather he stayed where he was. Gently he pressed a finger against his bruising cheek and smiles slightly, "Do you realize that it is your rejection that captures me, Irene?" I wince as if I had been struck instead of him. _Don't say my name like you know me! _I thought furiously. His dark eyes somehow had light to glimmer mischievously, "Don't think that your fruitless attempts of self-defense will protect you. The more you strike and lash out at me, the more I become intrigued. And the more eager to have your body once you submit to me."

I tremble at the thought. A fire swells deep in my chest—courage?—whatever it is, whatever it was that gave me strength to speak, I whisper without shaking, "If this is a game, you're going to be pretty disappointed because I don't intend to lose. Especially not to you." I spit out the last word viciously.

Alonso grins wickedly. "Neither do I."

A part of my mind is shouting that I should be afraid but strangely I do not feel it. Instead I meet his gaze evenly and strut out the door before I could breathe in the same air as he did. _That was handled foolishly, _the considerate side of my brain says haughtily, _You know he'll stop at nothing to have you. _

I tell it to shut up mentally and keep walking. I don't care if I was being foolish or not, only that I knew that I had spoken what I felt. I wasn't a toy to play with, I was a human being and I demanded to be treated as such, even if I broke every bone in my body to fight Alonso's greedy hands from touching me. I must have lost track of time because when I realize where I am, I notice that I draw near my door. The need to relax overwhelms my frustration, and my urge to cry. I hadn't forgotten Benito. Wherever his soul rests, I pray that he is with his mother and that he holds no grudge. For a second, I almost envy him and his happiness. Last night was crushing from discovering my engagement and towards Father's relationship with my mother that was always a fake, now the same despairing feeling seemed to envelope my heart when I had lost Benito. It was like the world was spitting at me; my day couldn't get any worse, it was impossible.

As my fingers latch around the doorknob a faint sound makes me hesitate. I step away from the door and look around; this was my room, I glance at the door feverishly as my sense of hearing almost doubled. There is a soft shuffle of feet inside. Gathering the remaining of my courage, I opened the door and glared harshly at the man who stopped in his tracks and immediately straightened recognizing me. I recognized him too. It was that sneak so-called messenger who I had encountered the night before, the one I thought looked like a rat.

"What are you doing in here?!" I shout at him furious that he intruded the only space I had a right to call my own.

He only looks at me, his body crouched like the vermin he is, ready to scurry away. I stare down at him but he doesn't reply. Instead, before I can ask again, the man quickly stepped towards me, then around me, and disappears around the corner. I watch him go bewildered. Just barely, maybe even a glance, I couldn't remember if I had seen his lips twist into a confident smile, as if he discovered something he had been looking for.

Suddenly an icy chill froze the blood in my veins, flushing me hot then cold. I threw my fan on my bed and dashed with as much strength I had left towards my secret drawer beneath my dresser. It pulled away too easily and the sinking feeling hit me before I stared at the empty compartment where my journal was nowhere to be seen. Frantically, I moved my hands searching in case my eyes deceived me. Yet I only felt smooth wood, not leather.

"Looking for this?" My head cocked towards the voice, my eyes flying into his eyes and widened. Standing in front of the door that closed behind him, with the messenger at his shoulder, stood my father with my diary in his hands.

I had told myself that after witnessing Benito's death, my day couldn't get any worse. But now as I see it, I only think...if only that could be true…


	9. Chapter 9

THIS STORY IS NOT DEAD!!! I HAVE BEEN BUSY FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS! Thanks for your patiance. :)

~_Animangame02freak_

* * *

Chapter Nine

My thoughts scrambled in my mind and I hurried to think of something as an excuse. But my efforts were futile. The compartment beneath my desk was open and searched and its contents were already gone; there was no need for a reason. My eyes watched my book but I dared not ask for it. The lines of Father's face set and my heartbeat ran wild through my veins frightened. My mouth seemed to dry, my tongue dissolving into sand, and I felt as stupid as a dumb animal.

His harsh eyes left mine, finally which seemed like years, and focused on the small booklet. The thin rope that bound it peeled away and I watched in horror when he flipped open the cover, and through its pages revealing my innermost thoughts and secrets….layer by layer until I was exposed. Father returned his gaze to me, his irises burning with emotion. Now he knew me for what I really was. A lover of knowledge, with a clever mind brimming full of independence, a trait he so feared since the beginning. I was never his obedient girl that he put me up to be. Never was and I could never be.

"Irene…" His growl was laced with anger, "How…_dare _you defy me!" Although I tried not to show any emotion, I couldn't help to wince as my dairy snapped in his hands. "I have sheltered you, fed you and _this_—" he held up my book, "is how you thank me?"

I didn't grovel for forgiveness nor did I cry, though my chest felt heavy. I would not, even if he was my father. By how his eyes roamed on me, piercing me with its gray-eyed stare, there was a frustration in its depths. He wanted me to beg and submit but my knees were strong enough to stand.

"I expected better from you."

The menace in his words didn't sway me. I said, low and slowly, pronouncing every syllable and I hoped that I would never say them again, "I am not Lucrezia."

His shoulders stiffened, he tugged at his jacket's collar but his fury was failed to be suppressed. He pursed his lips and his heavy eyebrow drew down as if tugged by a rope. I knew that face; I had seen it when he was in deep thought of business or my own punishment. I notched my chin higher allowing myself to drink in the little confidence I had. I knew that he wouldn't dare hit me now since his business partners were here to finish the deal. He wanted me to look perfect rather than having a bruise on my cheek the size of his fist. That would shout out that I was disobedient, a trait a father wouldn't want for his first born son. He held up my notebook back to his face and stares at it hard. I stopped breathing even though he had already read its continents. Prying its leather bound cover open again, he quickly scans my handwriting. There is emptiness in his eyes, an uninterested emotion like an article he didn't want. He moved closer to the breathing flames and inched the book closer as if to toss it into the health…

"NO!"

Father's head cocked at me sharply and I covered my mouth surprised by my sudden outburst when I had done so well to control my tongue. He glances at the diary and smirks as he removes it from the fire's reach. The triumph in his eyes burns as bright as the flames. He found my weakness. He knew what I cherished and it was enough for him to bargain with me if I planned to ever write in its pages again.

"You listen well, Irene." He said smoothly, his voice is hard and clear demanding not to be forgotten. "Unless you wish to see this book turned into ashes, I suggest you swallow that nature of yours and swallow your feminine pride. I won't tolerate it." I bit my lip, "You hear me?" he asked sharply.

I nodded and I curtsied, "I'll do it Father, just please…please don't…"

Father smiled and I was disgusted how low he made me sink down to. "You swear…?"

"Si..si…" I said. _Yes…yes…_

He nodded pleased with the agreement while I kept my head down low, my back arched. I felt disgusted, and broken like a wild mare that had finally yielded to the willful master. I blinked back the tears.

Father observed the book again, "Such rubbish." He muttered. His eyes flashed to mine. With a reflex quicker then my mind could process, his arm snapped back and the book flew out of his hand into the reach of the hungry flames.

I screamed. I clutched my breast finding my heart beat painfully against my ribs. I sank to the floor gazing dumbly at the heath. The pages of my diary curled around the edges turning gray. My calligraphy could no longer stand out as blackness corrupted the parchment as became inflamed with amber as it tore through the paper. Heavy footsteps approached me; a hand viciously seized my arm hurting me, and forced me back on my feet. Father's actions hadn't seemed to be touched by my misery or his own guilt. His fingers seized my jaw roughly drew my face to see him eye to eye. As my own eyes felt utterly blank at my own loss, his eyes were burning with its own fire.

"I will _not _have you speak to me that way!" he snarled. His spit was wet against my skin but I did not attempt to wipe it. I stumbled back when he released me hostile at my insolence. "It is in the memory of my deceased wife that I will not abandon you." He held up a finger, "One chance."

Father didn't wait for my response. He stepped around me muttering, 'Nonsense' under his breath. Meaning my book. The soft click of the door snapped me back into my reality and I sank down to the floor in despair pressing my hands to my eyes. The memories, the precious highlights and dark shadows of it all pressed down on me. As the tears spilt down my cheeks, I realized that I had lost more than a book, and the time spent on writing it, now wasted. My father hadn't known who had given it to me, I wondered what his actions might have been if he had known the generous benefactor. The diary had been a gift from my mother. I thought of it as a connection to her spirit that rest peacefully in heaven. But now, I had lost my mother entirely. Lost her to the flames.


	10. Chapter 10

Tell me what you think!

~_Animangame02freak_

* * *

Chapter Ten

The aroma of the nighttime meal placed before me failed to distract the thoughts of _him _a little ways from my right elbow. A poached turkey, cooked and steaming, sat at the center of the table with other assortments of fruits trapped in bowls around it; at the unusual gleam of our pewter goblets and our dishes, I suspected Father of using our best utensil and plates for this occasion. A servant stood a polite distance away from the table, holding a decanter of freshly opened wine in his two hands, awaiting any sort of sign for him to approach. The table was set for four people: Signore Grimaldi, my father, Alonso, and myself.

Sitting across from me, sat my father and Senior Grimaldi. Whilst my father's laugh carried pleasantly throughout the room, Grimalid's laughter, hoarse and broken, seemed to grate against the good humor. I sighed, and picked up my fork, that felt as heavy as ten pounds, and raised it to my mouth and chewed on the white meat. The flavor: tender, spiced, and pungent, tasted nothing more but bland on my tongue. I glimpsed a shadow of a form next to me, sitting awfully closer than I would have liked. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to rid the sense of him for my thoughts. However I found it with difficulty, that his very attendance was hard to shake off; it was like a very persistent dog that had bitten into the dress at my feet and refused to let go. Alonso ate casually with a dignified manner, thanking the servants that passed by, using his education politely. Such courtesy was something Father took note of when he occasionally glanced at our way to see any progress. But now, my father wasn't paying us any heed, a chance Alonso had been waiting for.

Raising one of our fine chalices to his lips, he whispered to me, too low for my father to hear, "You're father is exceedingly happy tonight."

I thought of the cup he drank from as tainted when he placed it down. "I wonder why…" I muttered, keeping my aggression on the subject as low as I could. Alonso smirked, highlighting the darkened bruise near his jaw. The welt I gave him earlier…A sense of happiness bubbled inside of me, but I refused to let it show.

"You're father is an interesting man," He said, keeping his voice small as though we were entertaining ourselves with meaningless gossip. Alonso examined the soft carrot at the end of his fork and bit into it in slow mouthfuls, "He was so willing to trade one of his own daughters…for a seat of power…Which makes me question: Who does he consider most important? Power? Or the love of his daughters?" I tightened my fist, grapping a handful of my dress under the table, and shot look of pure venom at the tablecloth. Alonso knew the answer…and I knew it too. I wasn't blind, Father _adored _power, stroked it like a lover, and wished for more when I thought he had enough. Alonso must have seen my thoughts, as easily as though I spoke them aloud, he asked quietly, "What do you think of him?"

"He's…" I hesitated to look at my father. For a shocking moment, I saw his eyes flash off me and back at his guest. All my thoughts stopped, and I fearfully looked down at my plate. Something touched my chin, drawing me upward and to my left. I recognized such touch as fingertips. Alonso held my chin as if holding a small bird, and held a spoon with a small group of blueberries in the other. Conscious of the eyes of the table directed at me, waiting to see my reaction, I swallowed back the arousing resistance and opened my mouth to allow Alonso to slip the fork into my mouth so I could eat the fruit. Once I swallowed, the conversation across from us continued. Alonso grinned at me, and released me easily.

"As you were saying, love?"

"He's a puppet…" I whispered with quiet intensity, enraged how I had been fed like a pet, or crooned with affection from a man I despised. "He's a puppet to fools like _you_; you tie him up with lies, lure him with power and use him to do your own deeds. What will you do once he proves invaluable to you? Will you cut off my father from his strings and let him lay there never to be used again?"

"Interesting way to think of it," Alonso said twirling a finger carelessly alongside the rim of the goblet. His eyes stared at my father, as if envisioning puppet strings attached to his every limb. With a smile in his voice, he said, "But you caught on rather quickly…more so than your father…"

My breath hitched in my throat. I suddenly felt light headed, and empty with theories and suggestions. What…what did he say? "What do you mean?" I felt faint, as if I was going to render unconscious.

"Ernesto is a valuable merchant," My father's name rolled around his tongue, as if he couldn't decide whether to think of it, "My father needs merchants for…our superior…with a decent amount of merchants on our side, we can order any items we need and ship them anywhere we desire." He momentarily lost his appetite, simply staring at his meal with no interest. But quickly, his smile returned, a devilish smile that reeked of sarcastic humor. "You're father fit our requirements most suitably. A threat would have sent him off, but then…we discovered his two daughters, both of large dowries, and both unmarried." My chest felt tight, tighter than what the corset had me. My ribcage arched, swallowing his words like an elixir. "By marrying one of his daughters, we would gain his trust as well as his power to command vessels; he's too stupid to notice. See?" Carelessly he gestures towards Father across from us; I take note of his glowing face, too oblivious to the sinister spark in Grimaldi's eyes. That was what tipped me off, I realized, that look in his eyes when I had first seen the man that made me feel wary of him.

"But you don't intend on sharing that sort of power." Alonso looks at me squarely in the eye. Slowly, he nods, and my eyes stung with hurt and tears unable to cope with the truth. That hurt inflames into rage, I set my jaw, still my trembling lip, and look at Alonso with as much force as I can muster, "If it was your plan to marry one of his daughter, then why choose me? My sister…she's known for her beauty, more so than I. You should've chosen her!"

Alonso chuckled deep in the back of his throat, his teeth set into a predatory smile. "You think that I would want _that_ whore?" My face must have looked surprised. I _was _surprised, but not at my sister, I always knew that she was one of those courtesans that I always see, but rather how this man knew Lucrezia true nature when my own father didn't know of it at all! "I know you know it's true." He said to me, "You're cleverer than you give off, I doubt that there's anything your eyes _wouldn't _catch." He sighed to lean against the back of his chair; he glanced sharply to his right where the servant with the decanter of wine stood poised, and snapped his fingers once. Jumping alert with sudden vitality than the boredom that made him one with the dreary walls behind him, the servant stepped forward and tipped the brim of the wine bottle to Alonso's goblet, filling it with scarlet wine before he stepped back and resumed his spot. Alonso swished the drink, and shot me a clever glance, "Good service." He remarked. His loud comment touched my father apparently for Father looked back at the youth addressing him, and smiled, preening at his attention. Too blind, to see Alonso's lips curl wickedly. I glowered at Alonso, but he barely cast a glance at me. "You're sister tried to…" He paused for effect, "_seduce me_ after you left me…" I stiffened against the back of my chair imagining the scenario in my head. I gave him a wary eye, unsure of what to make of him. His shirt was without a wrinkle, he looked the same and sounded the same as when we last encountered. Alonso gave me a wide smile with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "I said that she 'tried' to, my love. She wasn't successful. I laughed at her face when I resisted her charms, obviously no man other than I ever ignored her attempts."

"So you're saying that she had no affect on you, whatsoever." I found this bit of info actually pleasing to hear. Although I would have preferred a man other than him that rebuffing her, at least there was some hope that men could shield themselves from her flirtatious nature.

"You're impressed." He said it blandly, making it hard to define it from a statement or a question, but I could tell that he was delighted to see that emotion from me.

"I just couldn't imagine a man refusing her," I said.

"I don't doubt that she would be pleasing to bed with." Alonso said, his jeweled fingers strummed through his hair, his curls springing as they fell back over his shoulders. "She's obviously not a stranger to a man's touch. But I knew her for what she was, and besides, I'm a faithful man, not some spineless tramp who falls for a pretty face."

I could tell he was trying to impress me again; I gave him a tight smile. He raised an eyebrow, but smiled realizing that he hadn't captured my attention again. I was too focused on my anger, an anger that surged through my veins and seemed to steam out of my ears. Lucrezia _knew _that Alonso was to be engaged to me. I couldn't figure out her motive. Why would she try to charm her own sister's fiancé? _Maybe she was trying to test his loyalty. _A side of my brain offered. I shook my head dismissing the thought. That sounded too nice of her, I _know_ Lucrezia and doing something like that isn't one of her qualities. But then again, it was hard to judge what was going to happen, my life was already in shambles, perhaps what she did was just adding to the whole mess.

But…perhaps I was questioning the wrong person. How did Alonso manage to drive off her appearance? The memory of the men my sister ensnared at my last town visit came to mind. All those men, simply stricken by her flirty curves and voluptuous smile were the prime example of my sister's charm. I picked up my fork, stabbing a piece of cut meat and chewed trying to think. Alonso was eating when I glanced at him, obviously he had some of his own thoughts to review leaving me time to think freely without any interruption. Lucrezia's absence was a testimony of Alonso's words, perhaps she was too stunned by her first, and only, rejection, or else father wanted me to soak up some spotlight, which was a first. He didn't want his gorgeous firstborn to steal any precious attention Alonso had for me.

"How did you reject my sister?" I asked Alonso, stopping his fork that came halfway towards his mouth. "It couldn't be done, no man has ever looked away from her," I added frowning.

He placed the slice of turkey in his mouth, chewing as he observed me fully, when he swallowed, his blithe smile returned to his face as though my curiosity intrigued him. "That is…until now." His voice was low, intimidate even. "You're sister…the whore…knows the places of a woman that can…_capture_ a man's interest. She wears it well." He added chuckling, I scowled. "But her gestures…how they frolicked over her body, how she _moved_, she…she must've mistaken me for a lesser man. But I don't blame her, she was too busy trying to get _my _attention that she failed to realize, that she was already under my own charm. I am beautiful after all." He smiled at me, tugging at a ringlet near his face. I didn't retort. He was being truthful when he said he was handsome, but he said it as if it was a known fact and lavished in it. I found that rather repulsive. "She tried too hard to get me to follow her, harder than what she's used to. But for all her knowledge of a man's mind when it comes to a woman's body…her image couldn't blot out the face of…_you _from my mind."

Me? Perplexed, I questioned, a question that made him smile. Around us, the servants began to clean up our nighttime meal. Hordes of them came, picking up plates and utensils, the food, the small assortments that lavished the table. Barely, I could hear my father's voice rise with excitement as he discovered that Grimaldi loved to play chess. He shouted for a game of chess to be brought out, his request was answered by a light-footed servant to place down the chessboard. I watched my father for a few moments as he set up the board, as I gazed at Grimaldi, I realized that his chess pieces were already in place.

"You're sister is weak," He told me, following my gaze to watch his father play against my own, both of them huddled with their fingers barely touching their own pieces. "There is no game with her, no refusal, and no defiance that captured my interest. That is why I want you. You've never experienced a man's touch, never thought how one might feel alone in a man's chamber. You're new to this, as you're sister…is not. You intrigue me with your clever words, and your reactions are quite unexpected." Alonso chuckled as if he was enjoying a fun game. But than again, it _was _a game to him, just like the chess set. "You're a woman brimming of independence and I love it so much…_that I want to break it._ I'm tired of the obedient women, I'm sick of them fawning over me and battering their eyelashes wishing with all their petty desire for me to take them to my bed. How could they compare, when there's you? You, who defies my charms with disgust? _You, _who lashes at me if I get to close when most women would be petrified by me?" Alonso whispered. "You are a prideful woman; I want to be the one to break it from you, to drive it from you, and to have you _beg_ with remorse."

I watched Father and Grimaldi move their pieces across the board. "Soon the life you know will cease to exist. Your foolish father won't ever get the power he thinks he deserves. Your sister…who knows what mischief she'll come up with? And as for you…" I watched my father's arm move forward, his gaze scurrying on the squares to find a place to put his knight down. I slid my eyes off my father's shaking hand towards Grimaldi's face, his calculating eyes gleaming. Once Father's arm had snaked back, Grimaldi reached forward and took his pawn to slide it upward. The tall pawn, I recognized to be the Queen, rocked back in his hand, I watched as the red queen came forward, knocking aside a pawn that lied ahead of it. The king, Father's chess piece, clattered against the board, a defeated sigh came from my father's mouth, a soft sigh, that it made it sound as if the pawn itself had breathed it. "A month." I inhaled sharply as Alonso reached under the table to grasp my thigh possessively. "One month…and then you will be _mine._"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

The servant placed one of my bags into the carriage before another took his place with another item of my own to stuff inside. I watched from a distance as my belongings were packed away. Unable to witness such actions any longer, I look into the sky. The vast space above Firenze was blue, and cloudless and warm with the sun. A day meant to be perfect for new beginnings. I close my eyes to shun its image. Was I being mocked by the heavens itself by its perfection? Why had the sky decided to be so flawless when it was today I was to leave Firenze…forever?

It's hard to believe that time has passed by so quickly. I couldn't even remember what had happened since Alonso had last been here. Hours felt like minutes, and minutes seemed to be seconds. Everything had blurred together into one condensed mass in my memory. That man is the reason why I'm basking in the sunlight, and dressed in such finery. An icy sliver of fear runs down my sides, drenching me in my own sweat. How could I act so calm? How can I just raise my hand a few weeks from now and let him slip the ring on my finger easily as that? Throwing both hands at my sides, I nearly resist the impulse to stomp my foot in protest. But I wasn't a six year old; I was ten years older than that. A young woman by society's reckoning. Without a thought, I look down at my palms, held outstretched and open to my face. I close them, as if encasing a giant secret within my skin. I yearned to write. I missed my diary, and I missed all the memories that had burned away to the hearth and were lost to me forever. She feels so far away now, my mother…maybe it was as if the diary she had given me was an act of preserving her so I could always remember her whole and full. My heart aches, empty and swollen with hurt. Or else it is the corset that gives me such feelings.

I hear footsteps, and I look at its maker. I turn my head away glaring into the dirt, "Why are you here?"

Lucrezia stops in her tracks at my haughty tone, and tip toes in front me like an innocent child until she stood before me. Her eyes are at from my feet and rise to my face where our eyes meet. Then to my surprise, she smiles, not coy, or flirty as I had always known. Not devilish. But _angelic_ and…_kind…_Without a word—or rather I say taking advantage of my shocked demeanor—she throws her arms around my neck. I stiffen at such a gesture, unable to cope that she was…_hugging…_me. I simply stood there in my sister's arms, wishing for her to let go, wishing that she would hold me tighter. I wanted to cry, my eyes pricked by I swallowed my emotions whole. I have never been held like this before, not since…I allow the sweet memoires of the past to fill my mind. For one moment in reality, I was with my sister, and then the next, I was with mother: smelling her perfume and feeling every ounce of love she had for me that spoke loudly in the silence. Then the memory was gone and I could breathe again as Lucrezia withdrew her arms away to look at me straight in the eye. I only stared back at her and close my eyes. In that darkness I felt something warm cascade down my cheeks, and roll of my chin.

_I'm crying? _I acknowledged the fact dimly, and I wipe it away before more could overflow and film my eyes with its wetness. Lucrezia's face of glamour, didn't loose her smile, her strange, twisted smile that doesn't that fit her.

"Be careful, sorellina."

I felt my stomach twist, my cheeks enflaming with anger. All the pity, all the tears, and all my idle dreams of the years long ago are gone. Already the places the tears fell had gone dry. She had called me: _Little sister. _A title she had never given me since I was barely three. How _dare_ she mock me now? "Why are you here?" My words spit through my teeth. "Are you bored of seducing the men of Firenze, or do you wish to impose more of your cruelty upon me?"

My words seem to pain her, as if I had accused her of so much more than she did. Her eyes lowered to the ground, crestfallen. Perhaps if I had received more kindness from her in the past, I would have expressed some remorse. But I knew better, and the anger still bottled inside me didn't even crack. Her supposed 'sadness' did nothing to make my emotions falter. I studied her face, waiting for her to crumple, but instead her face remained open and honest.

"Stop your games." I snarled, "Your trucci (_tricks_) won't fool me."

Lucrezia looked up at me again, I saw the change immediately. Her eyes became sharper, clearer; the smile that played her lips curls more slyly. With unperceived thought, I glanced at the window above, just in time to watch a curtain move, disturbed by a stranger who I guessed had been watching her…_us_… With a straight face, I looked back to my sister, whose face shone of triumph at her task now completed.

"Clever." I said, though my tone lacked the surprise, "To use this moment to look kind in front of Father. Even gain some more affection."

"Not only that," said Lucrezia, she frowned a little as if she expected something more, "but I hoped that I would have tricked you one last time. Firenze will be boring without you."

I didn't care whether she was being honest or not. It was a cliché statement, a remark that lost its touch in writing and spoken by words. "You are too modest." I tell her, "But I think you'll get over it, I'm sure the men around here will be delighted to ease you from your so-called 'boredom'."

Now did she smile, but she placed a delicate hand on her breast to appear offended, "Such cruel words, sorellina. This isn't like you."

Out of all the words she had spoken to me, words of spite, and deceit, these words were the only honest ones I had ever known her to say. I knew she was right. I felt a change in me. My temper I fought so hard to maintain began to lash out violently and thrown hostility towards those around me. I didn't have to think of the reason behind it. I was already aware of the source, something I wasn't to keen on wording aloud or even thinking. I knew that Lucrezia knew. And she poked at it and poked it again, waiting to see it burst like a balloon filled with too much air.

I snapped. "Chiudi il becco!" _Shut up!_

"Irene...." I heard the growl laced with venom; heard the footsteps that drew closer. Ignoring my sister's outright smile, or the glint of humor in her eyes, I made an effort to look dignified as Father drew close to me. My efforts however were futile, I was stiff and my lips were tight together out of hostility. I knew he saw it, but he did not even bother to soothe me. His face was hard like his mouth, "Be kind like your sister, you owe her that much."

Owe her? I didn't answer, watching my mouth to not word a snarky retort. I owed that woman _nothing_! I gave Lucrezia daggers. Father smiled at my silence, his anger easily diminished. "Kept your rebellious nature in check…good." His eyes became glassy then, dreaming of a future I had no interest to see. He began smiling; positively glowing that somehow I could match with the sun's brilliance. It hurt to see it. Breaking out of his dreamlike fantasy, Father snapped back, his eyes returning to its normal severity. "I have given strict orders to the driver to be at San Gimignano at noon, perhaps even a little earlier if the weather permits."

"San Gimignano?" I asked. "I thought I was heading to Venezia."

The rings the dot Father's fingers glisten like stars in the sunlight, "That was the original plan, but it seems that Alonso is in San Gimignano to oversee some of his father's business…You will meet him there. Perhaps it would be better if you two rode up together."

Ride.

Up.

Together.

With him?

I might have screamed if I hadn't clamped my lip shut. "Father," I said—blurted—he raised an eyebrow, but I didn't see it, "Is…is that necessary?"

"I don't see why not," said Lucrezia, as if her two cents meant something, "You two _are _engaged, why not have some bonding time? Get to know the _whole _family."

"You _puttana _(whore)!" I screamed at her.

Father wouldn't have any of that. He held up a hand, firmly raised as if to strike. I caught myself and leashed myself back, shaking in fury. Lucrezia stared back at me with equal emotion, her eyes flashing and her lips were apart to reveal her teeth smashed together as if to throw herself at me like a feral beast.

"Apologize." His request was a snarl. I refused, crossing my arms over my body.

"Don't," said Lucrezia, glowering at me as she said it. I realized that she was talking to Father. "Let her do what she wants, I don't care."

Father's hand lowers at her words and I glare at my sister. "You should be thankful that your sister has stepped in front of you for your own protection." He said. I don't say anything.

A servant manifests at Father's side. "The carriage is ready for departure, _signore._" As if Father was going instead of me. Father pushes me towards the open door, shadowing me, until I properly sit down inside to watch the small door close after me. I hear the driver mount up; the pair of horses paws the earth yearning for movement. Father's face suddenly is near the window. He studies me with a long reproachful look and I wonder what he wants. To say good-bye? I think about it.

"Don't mess this up."

Then he is gone from my elbow, commanding the driver to do his job, a flick of the wrist, an air splitting crack of a whip, and the wheels attached to the carriage begin to roll. I set my jaw. I knew it would have been a waste to even imagine that he would have said good-bye to me. But what was he talking about? Don't mess _what _up? What could I mess up that I haven't already? My life was already a disaster! To be engaged to filthy man, that was one. My sister is a noble whore, was two. I continued: three was for the 'love' father had for me, and four: the guards that were loyal to my father—and now that I had proof—had traded dignity for coin seeing as how they told Alonso of the break-in I planned, and…I paused, reviewing my memory on number six. I couldn't place that masked man as one of the 'messes' in my life or to discard him as unimportant. It was _his _fault for charming me, and I, the helpless victim that could do nothing against him at that point. But I labeled him as 'number six' anyways and kept counting. I was at nineteen when a blur of movement caught my eye, far too big for a bird in flight and not as quick. I broke off from my train of thought to look out the window. Besides the people that walked by, some glancing at the wagon in curiosity, they was no sign of the huge blur I swear by the bible itself, had seen. I scanned the rooftops, searching the tiles thoroughly until I came across forms of men standing on the rooftops.

Wait…Men?

I blink, but the hallucinations don't fade. There were _men _standing up there. Two men, I count, waving their arms like maniacs and call out in a loud voice to a man below watching them from down below on ground. Through body gesture—hands on his hips—I can tell he's not as surprised as I am, as though seeing men up there wasn't frightening or alarming enough. He grins instead. Then he's _climbing_. Literally, climbing up the wall like some sort of spider, finding cracks to put a foot in and lifting himself from the ground to join his companions. I squint to see him despite the blast of sunlight hurting my eyes. When he makes it cheers arise, obviously pleased that he came up to join them. He looks down, perhaps feeling like he's being watched or else it was the sound of the carriage was making as it rolled by below.

_I see you_, I think at him. "Who are those men?" I ask the driver.

He barely even glances towards the rooftops, as if his attention is too precious to give. Frowning, he flicks his wrist; I felt the carriage roll by at a faster pace. "You mustn't pay fools like them any sort of attention. They are leeches, and vermin…carrying diseases and plaguing citizens with their thievery."

Distrust and vile coat his words, clearly this man has no admiration for them. No doubt I should be feeling the same. But I don't. A crazy idea pops in my head that questions the driver's point of view. Can't he see how beautifully they climb, filthy or not? Does he not see the grace and fluid movements they possess as they lung higher and higher? But as I look at the man, his expression doesn't falter, a frowning mouth, set in stone as he turns his head back to focus on the road. I hear voices, distant and calling, and I look up again. The thief looks—had he still been staring at the cart?—towards something hidden from me, the source located on the rooftops, and then without a backward glance, his profile his hidden by the rooftop tiles. I sit back in my seat, disappointed now that the distraction has ended.

I look at my hands, palms down on my knees and frown.

_Great_ and I lost count of the messes in my life too…

People stare at the carriage as it rolls by, lost in wonder obviously questioning what sort of person it could be for. I watch, spotting their expressions, but keep mine under lock and key. Lines of houses go by, I watch with steady progress, listening to the voices of strangers ringing and the beckoning of the vendors from the stalls. The carriage continues to roll by. I stare around at the tall towers, the entrancing circling of birds at its peaks. Like a sponge, I soak in my new surroundings greedily. I have never been out of Firenze before. Although this city hardly differs from my hometown, this place has its own charms.

I yearned to get out of the carriage and be among the people. To easily cast aside my problems. No rules, just sweet freedom. I looked towards the sky. I never have been so jealous of the birds that flew at impossible heights. I wondered how that felt like…the wind in my hair, the smells, the sights and sounds of the distant crowds down below…my heart burned with envy.

A jolt of stopped wheels confirms our stop. I hear the driver dismount and then the door swings open. "We are here, mi signora_._"

I hold my breath for a score of heartbeats, and stand up to leave. Filling the doorway with my skirts, I look around. At attention in front of the palazzo's doors were a group of men, shielded with armor, and armed with proper tools of war. The metal that covered their chests and shoulders gleamed like polished glass. The palazzo behind them was giant, extravagant in style, and seemed to boast wealth.

I raised my chin to snap myself out of my ogling and stepped down. My ankle jerked violently to my left and I stumbled forward from the step. The smell of silk, the touch of satin and arm muscle beneath it, broke me from my paralysis. _So much for dignified. _I scratched that thought out. I straightened, realizing that I hadn't fallen unto the ground, and looked right in the eyes of the man who held me.

"Are you _that _eager to see me, mio caro?" Alonso's lips curled into a striking smile, but its charm didn't sway the fire in my eyes. I, however, glanced around. The armored guards stood a lengthy way away from us, still at attention, but I caught their eyes on the scene watching. Flicking my eyes back to Alonso, I didn't tear my arms away, though I did step back not wanting to even smell the aroma of him that hung around the air, it was too pleasant, and lessened my violent thoughts.

"I merely fell, _darling_," I said, sharper than I intended, biting back more retorts on the tip of my tongue.

Alonso stepped closer to me, the perfume the rolled off his clothes threatened to engulf me, and ever so slightly make my defenses piece apart. He knew what scents caught a woman's attention, I should have known. But all thoughts of this became overridden by my sense of awareness as I felt Alonso's lips near my ear, disturbing the air between his mouth and my earlobe that sent my ears itching.

"Fighting to be proper, are you? If that is what you intend I'll play along…" He puts more space between my ear and his lips—to my relief—and speaks in a louder voice, "Come. It's better if we finish our conversation inside," His arm is around my waist—faster than his words—and brings me closer to his side. I struggle to match his pace as he guides me into the palazzo. The main entrance was just as magnificent as the outside. The floor beneath my feet is slated out of fine marble, and a grand staircase that branched out into two paths at the second floor. Lining the walls were finely painted portraits, their colors bright by skill hands and eyes. "I trust your journey wasn't too lonesome without me." Alonso says. He guides me onward, touring me the hallways and showing off the impressive paintings that pass by.

"I would have withstood a few more hours if that meant more peace for me."

He smiled and says dreamily. "You're remarks never cease to amuse me." He adds more seriously, "What do you think of San Gimignano?"

"It reminds me of Firenze, but it has its own charms." I replied, keeping my voice level.

"Indeed." Alonso doesn't say more.

"Signore?"

He glanced back, a servant bristled forth and inclined to Alonso with uttermost respect, "You're guests have arrived."

I glanced up at Alonso, his lips twitching. "They're here early." He muttered. He nodded however and the servant left. Turning at me, he said, "Please, go see to our guests, I'll be there shortly."

I had only been here for some time and he already treats me like his wife? I scowl. But I'd rather go see the new arrivals that linger with _him _any time longer. I spun with my heel and marched back where I had come. A group of men stood in the palazzo's entrance. The oldest of the group has frail, trembling hands, a face expressing many years of life. The other two next him had black hair, their heads capped in a similar fashion. They must be father and son. None of them paid any attention to me, too immersed in deep conversation. I walked down the steps. It was when I had entered father into the room when I was spotted. It was the youngest, the son, who stared at me past his grandfather's shoulder. I set my mouth, and narrowed my eyes with disdain. What a handsome man he would have been, if it wasn't for that leer that was fixed in his eyes or that spoiled tilt of his mouth that said that he got whatever he wanted.

But I curtsied—a little. "Good evening."

The youth didn't reply but didn't look away either. The grandfather inclined his head politely, being a gentleman, as his son—the man with a wild beard—only scowled. I felt the young man's gaze itching against my face; I only glanced at him, and turned my head to show my lack of intrest.

"Stop staring so openly at my fiancée, if you would…_Vieri_,"

Alonso was at the top of the stairs, an arm casual on the railing as he looked upon his guests. He had pulled his curly locks back with a single ribbon. It was surprising to see how sophisticated he looked with that little change, an all business man that tolerated no joking affairs. Alonso began to walk down the steps to take up the empty space at my side. His fingers touched my hip, pressing the fabric firmer than I would have appreciated as he placed an arm around me. Such an affectionate gesture…but it was ironic that it lacked such emotion. It was instead an act that labeled me as property and that I wasn't available for any man other than him.

The young man reserved his gaze to the floor. The second eldest—the father of the man—briefly glanced at me before looking away uninterested. His stiff shoulders didn't relax. His bearded jaw remained tight as it was. I heard a cough, my attention went towards the old man, and as his hand fell to his side I realized it was to break the tension in the air that had thickened like smoke. Alonso smiled, displaying his teeth widely, "Come, if you would gentleman," He gestured towards a door, where a servant had suddenly appeared out of thin air with it held open. "Please, make yourselves comfortable, I'll be right with you." With that, he bid the male servant away with a careless gesture of his hand. I watched them enter in single file. Alonso's arm slid free, as he spun around face me.

"I'm afraid our meeting does not acquire your presence." I frowned. His smile didn't waver at the least. "Although…" he murmured aside—almost thoughtfully as if didn't know he had said it—reaching towards my face to cup my chin. I fought back the urge to shiver when his thumb ran slowly over my jaw, and scooped down my neck, tracing little circles. Pulling back his hand, I glowered at him, hating him more than I had before. I had been dressed in this silly gown—an object to spur desire—and had been stuck in it for hours, only to have ignore it despite the temptation. He had a lot of willpower to override the dirty thoughts. He opened his mouth, for a moment, before pressing both of his lips together into a sly smile, curling at the ends in satisfaction. "Although," he repeated, "I would be delighted to acquire _your _presence afterwards."

I felt hot where I was, and looked away. I didn't reply to his unspoken invitation. Alonso didn't expect me to. Flashing a wide—predatory—smile that spoke of things yet to come, he closed the doors and rebuffed me from the conversation all three of those men I noted were impatient to discuss.

* * *

R&R

(Read and Review!)

:)

The last paragraphs felt...awkward. May change it, its late where I am and I should be in bed. SHOULD be, but I'm not. But I'm going to. So yeah, please review. It means alot to me, and its sort of my 'treat' for writing. From flamers, advice, and maybe even just a nice compliment, thank you for all those who reviewed so far.

~_Animangame02freak_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I listened to the men below, my elbows propped up with my chin resting on hands in an unladylike fashion. Laughter arouse, before hushing into serious tones. I could barely make out their bodies. Night had already befallen in the last, quick hours. I barely noticed the sun's fleet passing. Beneath me, I heard Alonso mention something about tomorrow. I became alive with curiosity. I wanted to know the identities of those men. Why had they come here of all places? I mulled the thoughts over. I theorized, and gambled hypotheses. I could tell that they were high born nobles, dressed in such refinery, and conceited by the tilt of their mouths. But still, why would they seek out Alonso? Was it because of his status ranked higher than theirs? Maybe a loan for more money? I couldn't decide.

I watched them: black shadows against the gray ground, as they piled into the waiting carriage leaving Alonso standing by. With a sharp crack against the air, and a jolt, the wheels began to roll down the path lit by flaming torches. I watched Alonso disappear into the villa, leaving me standing on the balcony alone empty of a purpose. There had been no good-byes. No hint of a farewell.

They were coming back.

During dinner I was rarely addressed in conversation. I sat besides Alonso like a prized trophy, keeping my mouth shut. Not because it was polite to, but rather I had hoped to eavesdrop on the conversation in hopes of deciphering what sort of topic they were discussing. Every so often, Alonso would break his eyes off his guests to look at me to give me that sneaky smile I hated so much or even let his hand settle on my lap until he would be distracted by the men across from him, and indulge himself with the meal provided to give out the perfect gentleman that only I knew to be a lie.

I banged my fist against the balcony top. How dare that man play others? How could they be so blind to his cruelty? It was as if I was the only one who had my eyes open while their eyes were shut tight. I strutted back inside, pacing, fuming. My body ached out of fatigue, but I ignored the bed for me. My thoughts whirled but I couldn't force myself to lie down and forget about everything: the strangers, the secrets behind locked doors.

I sighed, and sat down and vaguely observed my surroundings that were to act as my bedroom till now until we left for Venezia. Expensive carpet, fine furniture, and a pricey collection of dresses left for me. Nearby, draping over the chair was my nightgown. I stared at it, pondering if a good night's rest was all I needed to settle down. I felt tense as a bowstring. I plucked it and watched it unravel without a wrinkle before me. The places where my fingertips touched the satin burned. Burned as hot as the blush that washed over my face as I saw the low neckline. Furiously, I compacted it into a silk ball and threw it at my bed.

Just when I couldn't get enough of him! That…_that…_I tossed my hands up in the air and settled them on my hips unable to think of enough insults that could settle the fire in my heart. God, I hated him. Why couldn't I have been given the chance to settle down with another man, someone who didn't see a woman's body as something to own, or play with her emotions like a boy and his new toy soldier? I snorted. As if. Such men did not exist. Only in my dreams.

I resisted the thought to hit my head against something heavy and unyielding. I wasn't supposed to be pitying my life! I was supposed to be figuring out whose those men where and what secrets were held by lock and key in their mouths. I tapped my finger against my bottom lips as an idea struck me—not great as I wished it—but an idea nonetheless. I eyed the gown I had discarded. My sister had viewed men as faithless, but icons of pleasure and easily gave into the flirtations of the female body. Was it possible if…? _No! _I ridiculed myself. _Don't even think about it! _I wasn't my sister! I was Irene. Modest, polite….but look how far that had gotten me, how low I had come…

I stared at the gown. But still, if even if it did cost my pride, could I get the answers I needed?

* * *

I found him in the study. The only source of light was sustained by the candle at the edge of his desk where pearly tears of wax cascade down the sides. His face was crossed with its brilliance against the dark. I inhaled softly, and then swallowed. I tried to look composed, as if doing what I was about to do was a reflex, as though I do this every day. But inside, my stomach flip flopped, and my legs shook whilst standing still. Though my mind was somewhat willing to play the part, the flesh was weak. _But it's now or never, _I told myself sternly. The more time I spent idling at the sidelines, the more information I would lose.

I stepped into the room, resting my hands behind me to slip through the crack that had gained me entry and closed the door behind me. I quietly locked it, sealing myself in what seemed my nightmare where I dreaded to be alone with him. _Be strong, _I chanted over and over in my head. I prayed fervently to God, for fortitude that would give me the strength I needed. Alonso's face flashed up, away from the paperwork straight at me. My chain of thoughts dissolved and I simply stared back, a careful distance away so he wouldn't see what I was wearing.

The smile was evident, as he collected the scattered papers on his desk and piled them neatly, "What brings you here, Irene?"

I reminded myself to breathe. "I just wanted to say good-night," I said, stepping forward. When I felt the glow of candle touch my profile, I kept an avid eye on Alonso's face, watching him as he tilted his head to the side, and raised an eyebrow curious towards my low-cut nightgown that I had donned on to show some decent cleavage. The teasing that made his smile curl unwound and became a thin line slashed across his mouth. Even the mirth dulled and made his dark eyes blacker. Pretending I did not see his expression change, I strode over to his chair, "Is that something wrong of me to do?" I said dipping my fingers to touch his tense shoulder, trailing over his the back of his clothes lightly, brushing from one shoulder to the next. I smiled at him when I came around, hoping to get his attention. But as I tried to move and display elegance using Lucrezia as an image to follow by, my body felt rigid and kept snapping irregularly. Clearly neither I nor my body was used to be charming. He continued to watch me, unmoving, unblinking, completely wiped free of any thoughts he let display on his face.

Unsettled that Alonso hadn't responded to my frolic gestures or my high-pitched, slurred words in any hope being alluring, I was momentarily stunned, and quickly tried to think of something that would get an expression from him. But in the end, it wasn't me who held on to the control. Something hard—firm—caught me by the waist, pulling me sideways and I collapsed against Alonso's chest, and spilt on his knees. My heartbeat accelerated, panic-stricken. Alonso wasn't looking at my body at all, but at my face with a harsh intensity. His face eased when he smiled, beastly, and tightened his hold around my waist, pulling me closer to my extreme discomfort, until I felt pressed against him with no reserve.

"How very clever, Irene…but not clever enough." Alonso whispered.

I hid my heightening fear, "What are you talking about?" I asked, and fought to keep my voice level, naive.

He raised an eyebrow, not fooled. But he kept his easy smile. His hand around my waist, crawled up my side, I bit back my alarm as his finger began to line the curve of my breast. Not a flicker in his eyes. "Trying to seduce me," I couldn't decide whether he was making a statement, or answering my question. I struggled not to show any of my emotions regarding to what his fingers where doing to my body. Treating me like a plaything. "Like your sister, you think that men are weak to a woman's…_properties_…but have you forgotten that it was _me_ who rejected her?" With that said, he took his free arm to cross the one that was already keeping me flat against him. I growled, without meaning to, but he only squeezed me in reply. "If you really wish to enjoy my company…I'd be delighted to entertain you right now…." I gasped, plunging headfirst into icy fear. I shook my head frantically losing control of my reserve I had tried so hard to maintain. "Are you sure?" He whispered, his knuckles making small circles on my breasts, lightly as though stuck in idle thought. His other hand withdrew, only to run a finger along my spine up to my neck and back down again, dangerously low for my liking, but stopped at the last second to go back up again. I pressed my face to his chest, almost beside myself in tears at the thought of how easily he had played me. "This nightgown fits you." I closed my eyes, willing for the nightmare to be over, but I felt him crushing against me, something touching the top of my hair. He inhaled, and exhaled, "You smell very nice…" He whispered into my hair, smelling again with the same reverence suited for God. His arms around me, squeezed my lungs, I gasped clawing at his chest fighting to breathe and push him away. "Oh…Irene," he whispered, seemingly oblivious to my growing frenzy, "You slyly tempt me, you're only lucky that I need my floor to be clean for tomorrow…"

"Let…go…of me…I can't—can't breathe."

He released me, and without his strong arms, I crumpled to the floor grasping, and shaking. The room seemed to spin as the blood slowly began to return to my brain. _No…I can't be here…with him…when_ _I_…A wave of lightheadedness made lights swim before my eyes. I felt the cold marble rush to my face, my cheek felt sticky and warm from the lack of air to my lungs. I heard a creak of a chair as he moved to stand, not long after that finely tailored boots appeared in my vision behind the curtain of my hair, waiting. With a crook of arm, hands touching my sides and behind my knees to lift me from the floor, I struggled to break free from Alonso's arms as he had begun walking out of the office and down the hall where I had previously been.

"_Let me go._" I gasped.

His fingers became unmoving as coiled wires, digging into my skin and stiff. He grinned down at me. The hallways passed by in a blur until he kicked a door open. I recognized my room before the world spun as he tossed me on the bed. I sprawled on the covers, fighting to get away, but when I finally came to, Alonso had already positioned himself over him. His hands at both sides of my head, and knees straddled. The distance he kept between us was modest enough, but I wondered whether was planning to diminish the space or was trying to intimidate me.

"I expect you to be gracious to me. I could have taken advantage of you." He whispered.

"Why should I?" I growled, despite my vantage point, "You have a problem against raping your fiancée?"

"Making love and rape are two different things." He said calmly, as though he was trying to be reasonable with a child throwing a tantrum. Which I was not.

I snorted, rolling my eyes in irritation, "I see no difference."

His lips curled into a grin, as dangerous as they come. "Like you would know. You're a stranger to the delights men can give—_I_—can give. There is a void inside you that must be filled, requirements met. I intend to fill that empty space of yours."

I shivered at his words, knowing all too well that he had the strength force my body if he so chose to. The muscles a woman lacked, a man had. Though seeing the acknowledgement of the thought in my eyes, Alonso smiled and leaned closer to me. I stiffened when his lips touching my neck and keeping him there. My stomach shuddered, reviled by such simple contact and sparked an impulse to hit him, to keep my space. As if sensing such intentions, he pulled back, sharply then I could guess, and placed a hand on my stomach. My entire body froze naturally. I felt swept by a rush of ice. My heart began to pound and my skin broke into a cold sweat. I felt as if I was about to pass out.

"To think," he said, "that this is where our child should be after we become more…_intimate._"

For a brief moment, the warmth flushing from my belly dulled; I sprang my hand back and slapped him across the face. His neck went stiff, his cheek facing me as the force of my blow had sent his head snapping towards his right. I hold my breath, suddenly terrified by what I had done. Slowly, his head pivoted to look straight at me. His face his crossed with outrage and shadows. He touched his cheek, before I felt his eyes return on me. A terrible smile twisted his mouth. I almost had the impulse to close my eyes. I know what he was capable of doing. If he was going to play around with my body, I didn't want to watch his face.

Instead, he does the complete opposite. He crawled off all fours, off of me, and stood at the end of my bed. But the look on his face is more than I can bear. I wished for his fury. The side of him that was collected or was always a strategist, I wanted to see him react in the ways I expected. In ways a man would feel as if his honor had been tarnished or some criminal assault against him. But Alonso stood there: the outrage melting away from his eyes like wax but his horrible smile still remained there. He curled his hands around the bedpost, looking at me, but his presence seemed to tower over me like a god. His black eyes burned with obsidian fire.

"I am used to your rejections, Irene. I was right about your stubborn nature, and I am glad that you are difficult. But don't think your little actions will grant you immunity from me forever."

I shrank back. Alonso smiled, uncurling from my bedpost, and walked towards the door. I blinked back the tears. How cruel he was to tell me my fate. The thought of doing something like that with him was more than I could take. It was like I was swallowing acid spoonfuls at a time.

"Irene," I looked at him. His hands were on the door, his back to me. "I'm a gentleman, so I'll warn you this much. When we arrive in Venezia and our ceremony will take place. Our first night together, I will be looking forward to hear you scream, and to know that it will be _me_ who will make you."

I was frozen stiff, even when he had closed the door and his footsteps had faded. The places where he touched me crawled; I fought not to choke on the impulse to vomit. As I bent over, clutching my stomach, dead to the core at the thought of _him _inside of me, I realized that I didn't ask the questions I had planned to get answers. He had taken me by surprise, cheated me and used me to his own advantage. He made me forget what I had wanted to say.

Damn him.


	13. Chapter 13

In college now, though I've got a test tomorrow I just thought I'd update since I haven't in a while (which I apologize profoundly) Hopefully, I'll get chapter 14 up later this week or next week if I'm not as busy. Anyone seen the new AC: Brotherhood trailer? Epic. Otherwise my thoughts on this chapter...I wish it wasn't as choppy but hey, maybe its just me that's thinking this. Happy Tuesday!

~_Animangame02freak_

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

I woke to the call of songbirds and warm sunshine, yet my mouth tasted of something vile. I sat up, pushing away the covers that acted as a cocoon of warmth and security. The conversation from last night was still fresh like an open wound in my mind and hung over my head like a dark cloud. I closed my eyes, no wanting to let the experience get to me, but I couldn't find any sort of wall that could act as a barricade or a place for me to hide. I was naked, and his words sent an icy chill from my bones and shook me inside and out. Opening my eyes again, I wished that I wasn't so hasty when I drew the covers. I missed the safety off its covers.

I _tsked_ and rolled my eyes immediately at the thought. I would be stupid to place some hope on a sheet of fabric. A flimsy thing couldn't—can't— protect me. The door opened and I paid the servant girls little attention as they began to pull aside the curtain. "Good morning, mistress. Are you well?" said one of the girls.

I placed both feet on the floor. Ignoring the cold chill that ran up from my heels, I lied easily, "Yes. Thank you."

She smiled, oblivious to my true feelings. "The cooks have informed me that the breakfast is served." I yawned as she came over with a soft green dress. After fastening the bodice tight, knotting the ribbons, smoothing and straightening bits that were already smooth and straight, I was prepared for the day. It was a simple garment, the green gown I wore, much to my pleasure. It didn't expose the curve of my breasts as many of the others that had been brought here. When I was descent, I was escorted down out. I heard movement before I saw it. I stopped despite the discontentment of my female escorts but I didn't pay attention.

I watched guards entered from on top of the staircase, their breastplates polished and the handles of their swords flashing in the daylight. In the center of the posse were two men. At first glimpse, they vaguely reminded me of bulls for they had an uncanny resemblance in stature. Both possessed thick necks, thicker arms, and a look on their face that said they had no qualms of hiding their strength. They did not boast it, but I had a feeling that if a situation came to landing blows, they would be undoubtedly the victors of such an outcome. On their broad shoulders, with a beefy arm to keep it from falling was a long crate. I fixed my gaze on the group that waited for them to come closer. It was there that I spotted Alonso. His kept both hands behind his back; his face was smooth and withdrawn when the two men approached. Sizing them up, Alonso looked like a normal man with two giants. Even if the men's strength was eminent, Alonso's presence was overwhelming. I watched the bearers kneel to ease the weight and carefully slid the burden forward off their shoulders, some of the guards nearby, who appeared lanky and twig-like compared to the two, helped bring the crate down soundlessly.

My eyes fastened on the item at hand. What was being protected? Something made of glass? It was treated as such. But I couldn't be certain. My thoughts were distracted when Alonso stepped towards the crate and snapped his fingers once: loud and clear with order. A guard quickly came alive, and began tearing apart the top. I heard wood crack, and after a while filled with the sounds of wood being abused and torn at, he jumped back. Alonso placed both hands at either side of the crate and leaned forward as if to get a closer look. I suddenly wished that I was closer as well. What was so interesting about the box's contents? A lost king's treasure…no, that didn't fit quite right, Alonso already had great wealth. Did he want more? But I went against the possibility, even to the point of shaking my head in my thoughts. He didn't look like the type who needed more riches then he already possessed.

Alonso straightened and shouted a sharp command that the crate be brought into his office. The men around him became alive and I watched as the crate was carefully hoisted back on the shoulders of the two giants before the group shuffled away into the corridor. My eyes lingered after they were long gone. I couldn't fight my curious nature or hold back the thoughts relating to the item's identity from my mind. A low chuckle acted as a break to my theories of a king's ransom in gold or forgotten artifacts and in a flash my eyes were on Alonso.

"Good Morning, mia colomba." He said turning around with a pleasant smile.

I wondered if he had known that I was here the entire time. Had he been exaggerating his actions? I opened to respond with a snarky reply until I remembered the maids that were still around me. I looked back at Alonso and back to them, especially at their red faces. They were spineless before his charm. I cleared my throat loudly to claim their attention. They came to, and blushed from the roots of their air embarrassed that they were gawking so openly. I sent them to resume their duties but was met by some arguments towards the earlier mission to escort me to the dining room. In the end however, I was insistent for them to leave me, and grudgingly, they complied.

I returned my gaze back to Alonso, not even bothering to watch them go separate ways. "It's cute to refer your loved one to an animal. Where did you steal that line from?"

"I believed that I called you 'a dove', not one of those smelly animals. You're better than that, after all."

I eyed him sternly. But he only smiled slyly, eyeing me as he did so. I huffed indignantly and crossed my arms over my stomach which grumbled in response. I had forgotten about breakfast. I walked down the steps and made my way back down to the main level of the villa. As I brushed by to pass him, he slid to intercept me and blocked my path. I glared up at him.

"I'm not in the mood for your games." I said. My stomach growled, agreeing with me.

"Oh?" He perked an eyebrow. "But what if _I_ am?"

"Then you'll have to cope with disappointment." I spat, moving to go around him.

He sidestepped me, and sharply cutting me off. I growled in my throat. This man was always tampering with my patience! I moved again, and just like before, he mimicked me to block my way. A flash of amusement touched his mouth. I sidestepped, and just as I was aware of him shifting to follow, I snapped my hand forward at his face. In a heartbeat, he grabbed my wrist. My eyes widened in alarm. He grinned. In a fluid movement, he stepped around me, twisting my arm behind my back. I yelped as he raised my hand up high, forcing me to bend forward. I glared at him with as much scorn as I could muster and wiggled to be free of his grasp. When he applied pressure to my arm, I stopped and winced at the sharp pain.

"I will never be disappointed with you." He said, very quietly.

"Signore!"

Alonso made a sound in his throat before he rolled his eyes in annoyance. His hand released me, and turned around to see who interrupted him. "What is it?" He asked though his voice already hinted that he was uninterested.

"I am a message from the Pazzi sir." The courier looked as if he was about to say more but hesitated when spotting me. Did I have something on my face? I rubbed my cheek but felt nothing.

"Really?" Alonso asked. His expression became unreadable before he gestured for the messenger to follow before he turned towards me, "I'm afraid that we'll have to finish our conversation some other time." Alonso said to me.

As if I cared.

I frowned at him and crossed my arms. My reaction only made him smile despite the fact that the messenger looked quite cross by it. But Alonso quickly drew his attention off me and I watched them go down the familiar path that I knew led to his office. Though I could tell that the courier was impatient to leave and tried to make his conversation short as possible, I managed to capture the word: "Murdered" in a sentence.

* * *

Though they said nothing, I knew that the guards were watching me attentively as I made my way down the hall. Perhaps they were wondering what business prompted me down this path, or maybe they saw me as a distraction and brought their eyes back to the blank walls, eagerly hoping for their shift to end. Striding past the men clad in armor, I marched straight up to a pair of doors I knew led to Alonso's study. I was discreetly greeted by a man standing before the door. Judging by the lack of body armor, he was no more than one of the standard guard.

"I have been ordered to keep other visitors from entering until the meeting has reached its end." He told me, nodding his head back to the door.

As if I couldn't see it.

I kept myself in control and didn't bother to show how much he annoyed me. "I need to talk to my fiancé." I said.

I saw something flicker in his eyes causing conflict to arouse on his face. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and cleared his throat as such an action could make him look mightier. After a good thirty seconds of being at odds between his thoughts relating to me being his future ladyship to his master compared to his duty of forbidding anyone in, he finally yielded to my side. He inclined his head and opened the door for me to enter.

My presence disrupted their conversation; the courier looked at me sharply with a scowl. I returned it. After a few seconds of heated tension building between us, a voice interrupted us and brought us back to reality.

"Is there something you need to discuss with me?" Alonso asked. He was sitting behind the desk—there was a sound of a document being set down—and was smiling broadly at his received attention. My eyes left him, and focused on the crate in the corner with its top open.

I ignored the double meaning. "I only need to talk with you: alone." I said.

"My, aren't you being selfish." He said smiling. I colored. He snapped his fingers once, capturing the courier's attention and sent him off for a few minutes. The messenger gave me a hard glare just before he left. I wondered why. Had I interrupted something important?

"I apologize for interrupting." I had been craning my neck to get a proper glimpse of the courier walking out. I quickly focused on Alonso as I said this.

He smiled wearily, "The conversation was at its end anyways. You only managed to spare me the boredom." He added, running his fingers through his hair. "Besides, the topic itself was unpleasant. It seems that all the good news has reached it standpoint. Apparently one of the bankers who associated with my family was murdered in the middle of the day during a visit to an art gallery."

"In the middle of the day!" I said. "Who killed him?"

"Some assassin," said Alonso without the slightest hint of interest. His eyes rolled towards me. "But I suspect that a small conversation isn't the reason why you're here."

Surprise exploded in the pit of my stomach. "Wha—what do you mean?"

"I could see your intentions when you arrived, love." His unfathomable eyes were still watching me, his black irises that could somehow spark with a mischievous gleam.

I suppressed the urge from wrapping my hands around Mr. I-know-Everything's fat neck and choke every ounce of air that made him alive.

"What was in that crate?" I asked and pointed to the crate. There, I said it. I couldn't ignore the fact that it was here; it only spurred my motives to figure out its true purpose. Like what was the secrecy about it? What sort of valuable was inside it?

Alonso's eyes followed to where I gestured, and seeing what had captured my interest made the corner of his mouth curl into a feral grin. It was quick as a bolt of lightning that tore through a stormy night, and ended just fast. His gleaming eyes became dull and his teasing lips were easily lost into a look of lack of passion. I almost doubted if I had seen that cocky smirk at all. "It's nothing important, really." He drawled, scratching the side of his jaw as if the subject bored him. "Fine porcelain vases from the Rome…a pair of silver candle holders," His eyes were fiercely sharp as they landed on mine, "An ancient document…"

His voice trailed off on a high note and left it fall into the silence. His gaze was insistent on my face as if he waited for a reaction. Even though I knew it, I couldn't stop myself from holding back the alarming increase of interest that caused my eyes to boggle and leave me out of breath.

"Document?"

Immediately, I spotted a sheet of parchment laid out openly on his desk…almost like it was put there just for me to notice. My eyes went from him to the page and back to him. Catching my drift, he delicately placed his forefinger and his thumb against the top of the parchment and held it out for me to see. The sunlight fell upon it like a sweet halo. I trudged towards it and I studied the markings that were printed—by a fine hand, I noted—upon its face. Though I had no idea what sort of language this writing originated from, I was bewitched by its mysterious font. I closed my eyes—for a long but brief moment—and inhaled it dry scent that lingered in the air around it.

"Ah-ah-ah…" said Alonso, jerking the document away from my outstretched fingertips as I reached to touch it—breaking the spell that fell over me, "If you want to touch this, you'll have to give me something in return."

"That's blackmail!" I said furiously, stamping my foot like a three year old.

"Maybe..." He mused. But he snatched my chin as though he thought otherwise and angled me to look up at his face. I kept a poker face. "Well?" he inquired, running his thumb in slow, thoughtful circles against my jaw.

I knew he wasn't joking. Furious, I balled my hands into fists to keep them from wrapping around his neck. His motive was quite clear, as well as his intentional desire.

I wretched my chin away from his pinching fingers. "I suddenly discovered that I don't need to know its contents."

"Then we have nothing more to say." was his answer. "You may come in, courier."

I heard the doors behind me open and close, then the glare that began to bore into the back of my skull. With a cheerful smile, Alonso bid me off and ignored me as I headed out the door.

* * *

DAMN, DAMN, DAMN HIM! How was it that he managed to turn tables on me so suddenly! For one second I had the higher ground, then the next, I was struggling to get back up! I balled my hands and marched up the steps and the guards who stood by kept their thoughts to themselves. _My _thoughts however didn't –couldn't—settle. They whirled like a wild tempest, destroying all hold on logic and reasoning and unleashed chaos and destruction upon its wake. I marched straight up into my room, slamming the door aside and began to pace furiously.

"Signora?" I sharply looked at a female servant who froze what she was doing—plucking the dead bulbs of flowers from the vases. She was younger than I thought, about a year or two younger than I was. I was too accustomed to see older women serve in the villa. "Are you alright, Milady?" she asked.

An urge to be held by her dainty harms and to bawl in her arms was stifling. Her plain looks did not match the beauty of her compassionate nature that shone vividly in her luminous, green eyes. I knew the thought was folly and that I was an idiot to believe it. I was her master's fiancée, her lady by rank. She was only asking to be polite.

"I am alright." I said.

"Are you in dire need for another meal?" she asked.

"I already ate."

"A canvas to paint? Some paintbrushes? Or paper with—"

"I'm a terrible artist." I laughed.

"Perhaps an evening bath to soothe you?" she offered.

I blinked at her then pondered the idea. "Yes," I said. "A bath sounds rather nice."

The maid glowed at the thought that she was able to please her madam. She curtsied. "I'll got fetch Agnese. She'll round up some ladies to help you."

* * *

I stripped out of my gown doing my best to overlook the fact there were other women around me and stepped into the warm tub. All thoughts of privacy drifted as I sighed as the water lapped at my shoulders. I could feel the today's earlier tension ease out of me and the knots in my back unwinding in a painful but breathtaking experience. Female servants tended to me, something I still wasn't used to. I was required to hold out my arms while two female servants were placed at either side to run a soft scented bar of soap against my skin. Another maid worked through my hair, gently combing and untangling the knots with her fingers with patience. I bowed my head back against the edge of the tub and sighed at the peace that flowed through me, rolling out all my disconcerted thoughts from spoiling the pleasant mood.

"You seem at well at ease, miladay." said Agnese, who was the one that was brushing through my hair.

I smiled, "It's been a…hard morning."

She chuckled at my response. "If that is the case, signora, please feel free to rest."

I thanked her and was conscious as her hands ran through my hair and rubbed sweet fragrances to make me smell sweet. I sighed—for what it felt to be the hundredth time—and listened to the water's quiet murmurs and feeling the gentle stroke of soap and brushes against my skin. While my thoughts were drifting away on the border of dreams, I was faintly tuned to the sound of someone's knuckles rapping against the door. I mentally sighed, but I kept my eyes closed and to let myself enjoy the limited hour of solitude. I was aware that someone had gotten up. I realized with displeasure that it was the Agnese that had left. The tingling in my scalp ceased. The door creaked when it opened. A startled gasp.

"My Lord!"

_What! _The hazy barrier of that glazed over my thoughts shattered and I quickly sat up with a violent intake of breath. My hair was cold against my neck. I quickly yanked my arms from the alluring stroke of soap and scent and plunged myself deeper into the tub's water. I barely made it, because as I dipped my shoulders in, my stomach performed flips as Alonso walked in. The women at my sides shot to their feet as if they found sitting idle was a crime. Alonso's eyes wandered but then his eyes settled on me where his lips twitched. I felt hot.

"My Lord!" said the maid, whose sharp intake had alarmed me of his presence, "You shouldn't be here! My Lady is…" She faltered as she sought to find words that would give him sense, but she stammered, "Speak to her after she has washed and dressed properly!"

I mentally cheered her for her bravery, but my hopes waned when Alonso's eyes fixed on her with a long, cold stare. "Are you ordering me?" He asked.

She colored, "No, of course not sire. But…"

"I'd like to speak with my bride…._alone_…"

_No! _But I saw conflict raging in her eyes. The thoughts of me, helpless in the bath with a man with the room, but her Lord, who could have her executed with a single word, or have her family run into poverty as well as demolishing any hope of future employment. Her duty to satisfy his wishes proved greater than my own situation. She nodded, but I saw her look at me with an expression of deep remorse. I didn't look at her. Even if she apologized to me for the rest of her, it wouldn't make a difference. She had just sent me to my own personal damnation, my last hope. She called for the women who were forgotten at my side and they hurried out. The door closed after them where the silence was filled with the trickle of water and my heart drumming in my ears. I brought my knees closer to my chest and wrapped my arms around them under the water's surface and tried to make myself small as possible.

"Isn't that better?" Alonso said as he sat down on a chair on of the maids had been using. He watched me avidly. I was suddenly very thankful that I had so many soap bubbles in the tub.

"What do you want?" I asked acidly. My heart was beating, screaming: _danger, danger! _"Don't you have anyone else to annoy or see, like a courier perhaps?"

"Nothing and no, I don't. He's long gone, so I thought I'd come visit you while the time is free." he said, scratching his jaw idly. Alonso swung an arm easily behind the back of the chair, his posture becoming one of tremendous ease. His black eyes watched me, and the corner of his lips was twitching like he couldn't stop himself. I shivered despite the heat that steamed wafted from the bath. "Well?" He asked.

"Well, what?" I countered, clutching my arms and cowered as I tried to imagine a brick wall between us.

"Aren't you going to finish bathing?"

My cheeks went aflame. That monster! Of course, he'd want that. Not only as a personal gain for his eyes, but the fact he knew who much I distasted the thought of displaying my body. I gave him a glare that was sharp as daggers. He easily ignored it. I didn't move. I wouldn't, as long as he was here! Perhaps he caught wind of my thoughts, if so, it explained his growing smile.

He stood up. "Well then, if you won't…I'll just have to assist you."

"Get away from me!"

Alonso simply stared at my face before dissolving into smiles. He knelt down besides the tub and fixed his eyes on me like a cat eyeing a small bird. "You wouldn't be that cruel to keep me away from spending time with my beloved?" He swung an arm on top of the bath's edge as though it were an armrest and placed the hollow of his throat on his arm.

"I've spent enough time with you." I retorted and kept the blush of my drumming heart from showing.

"You're a cruel woman." He said. His eyes fell downcast on the bubbled surface of my bath. "I surely hope you won't be when we head out tomorrow."

"To-tomorrow?" I stuttered. Weren't we going to leave at the end of the week?

"I'm only because of business," Alonso said. His gaze steady on me under his thick lashes. "The road will be long and dull; we should…get to know each other better." He added, gently running his fingertips over the water's surface which sprouted ripples at his touch.

"Then if that's the truth, they why are you leaving?" I said, noticing that his hair was down in its usual disarray of locks.

"What makes you say that?" he asked though he didn't deny it.

"You look like you're ready to go out traveling."

Alonso grinned, staring at me shamelessly. "Oh? So, you were staring at my body?"

I grit my teeth. I drew back my hand and threw it fast across his face. His hand came out of nowhere. I yelped when his fingers crushed around my wrist. Not out of pain, but surprise which quickly grew into panic. _He_ _must have been planning it._ I thought. _He must've known that I was going to do it. _That seemed to explain it how fast he moved, and why he came here. He was clever enough to know that by tormenting me, teasing me, I would react and go straight into action.

As I always had done.

"Let go!" I demanded pulling at my arm.

"There's a meeting tonight with a family acquaintance along with the men you saw two days past." He ignored my demand to stare very intensely at me. "The courier gave me a message that apparently there are some plans that need to be discussed. Although I would rather be in a different place," He murmured, inspecting my wrist with interest as if he had never held a woman's hand before. He sniffed my skin in a deep sigh, "With different…_company…_"

My height of fear increased as he kissed the back of my hand. I struggled to get his touch, his mouth off my skin. But I knew that I couldn't move too much in fear I should upset the waters I bathed in. I fearfully glanced at the soap suds drifting afloat. What would happen once they disappeared?

I shook my arm, but he paid no heed to it and continued the caress of his lips up my forearm, my elbow. He tugged my arm closer; I struggled to lean away as his head, his lips, traveling to my shoulder...my neck…

"Let…"

He sharply pulled my arm, cupping the back my head in the same movement. He pulled me to him. His mouth found mine. A chill crawled up my side. His scent rolled off of him and onto me. My nostrils flared taking it in. I wrestled to break free and gasped for cold air. Air empty of him.

"Alonso! Stop—"

His fingers dug into the back of my neck and put his mouth back on my lips again and forced my mouth to part. His tongue explored my delicate interior of my mouth. Tears spilt down my cheeks. His black eyes watched as if he gaze was enough to break me apart. I shuddered as his tongue made its way round, touching places no one else has done. I had to get out of his perfume, his hands that acted like iron shackles…

I bit his lip: hard.

He jerked away and I drew blood. Coughing, and gasping for breath, I spat and wiped my mouth..Vomit choked my windpipe but I swallowed it causing tears to spring from my eyes. When I came to I saw Alonso. He brushed his thumb over his bloody lip, watching me thoughtfully as he did so. In a clean sweep motion, his tongue ran over his thumb and grinned at its coppery taste as if it matched the sweetness of wine.

"Clever." He said. I glared at him. He hunched over, pressing the palms of his hands over the edge of the tub, curling his hands as he watched me. I leaned back, heart thumping. He grinned mischievously, "And just when I thought I had you…"

I spat at his face.

He blinked as the ooze of saliva slipped down his cheek. His gaze remained unwavering and calm, almost blank as though he was oblivious to its cool touch.

"Don't touch me." I snarled.

Then in a smooth motion, he eased himself away until he was standing tall to look down at me. "Do you honestly think those words have any sort of power behind them?" He let out a short burst of laughter—a cruel sound. "Hang onto those words then, love, if you believe so. But soon, I'll have you _begging _to do otherwise." His eyes lingered on my face then down towards my body that was submerged in water. He winked with voluptuous ease. "See you in the morning, love." Blood stung my cheeks and I trembled with fury.

I listened to his steps even as he rounded the corner and sank lower into the cold water empty of strength when silence prevailed over the room. Even the water was hushed now. It was like Alonso had taken all the drama, the color, and emotions along with him. I stiffened when I heard footsteps enter, but I eased my guard when I saw who they belonged to. The maids had returned, muttering and fretting. I suddenly felt furious, and betrayed when they came closer. I stood up out of the frigid water and held out my arms to be draped with a soft robe and dried off. Back in my bedroom room, with my hair still dripping and damp on my shoulders, I rebuked the women's attempts to clothe me in another silk gown.

"I'm going to bed." I said instead. I insisted for my nightgown.

Agnese went white with surprise. She denied my request and pointed towards the window that was glowing with the sunlight of midday. "But my lady, it's not even…"

I wasn't in the mood to argue. I was frustrated, exhausted, and on the brink of breaking down into tears—a feeling that was quickly surmounted with a temper that haunted me like a shadow. I snatched a bouquet off the mantel and flung it into the fireplace. The porcelain vase shattered, sending chips flying in all directions and scattering lilies and orchids across the heath.

"Signora!" She exclaimed.

"_Good night!_" I shouted.

Bright red, she stormed out, the others trailing behind her. I slammed the door after them. I threw myself on the bed, dissolving into tears. I drew the covers over my head, shivering and shaking despite the heat that suffocated me and made my cold body warm.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Someone shook me awake. I opened my eyes, arousing from my sleep. I tried to say 'What's the matter?' but my thoughts were still fuzzy from the sudden wakeup call and I slurred: "Whas zeh mazzer?" I rubbed my eyes as I sat up properly. It had to be sometime during the night, I knew that much because my room was dark. Groggily, I made an effort to look up at the person who awoke me. I was a bit surprised to see that it was only Agnese. I watched her mouth, and furrowed my eyebrows together when no sound seemed to follow. I shook my head in a lazy effort to get myself up. "What?" I said.

It was like a bubble inside my brain had popped, and all the sounds began to fill up at once. I heard her voice and something else, something distant as if it echoing outside my window. What was that sound? "…we _must _get you out to safety, signora! Mercenari have invaded the gates and are attacking the city guards!"

I blinked and almost had the desire in the pit of my stomach to laugh. Clearly she had to be joking. The walls of the city were fortified and guards patrolled the streets daily in large numbers! It was impossible. But the more I stared at her, the more fear I noted in her voice and saw the same fear illuminate her eyes as bright candlelight. Then I realized what the sounds were. People were fighting outside.

I threw off the covers.

"Where's Alonso?" I asked, stepping out into a plain grown she offered me. "Is he back from his meeting?"

"I do not know where the master is. Forgive me for the gown's plain appearance milady, but I thought it would be best to disguise you." Agnese's fingers stopped fumbling the laces of the bodice when voices suddenly rose through the open doorway. Just when she threw a cloak over my shoulders, Alonso filled the doorway with his presence and assumed control of the situation. Heavy armored men stood behind him looking restless as they groped for the weapon at their side.

"Are you alright Signore?" Agnese asked.

"I am, but the men who felt the bite of my sword could have lived better days." said Alonso. At this comment, I noticed that he had a sword at his hip. He looked different: edgy, but at the same time he looked so fierce that it chilled me to the bone. He was like an unstoppable god. Agnese let out a breath of relief and looked as though she was about to say more but Alonso silenced her with a clean sweep of his hand. He saw me. The places where his lips touched on my body, and where his tongue roamed, burned. I clenched my fists tight to keep me from trembling. Seconds ticked by before I realized he hadn't done anything. His eyes were on my face, narrowed, but he seemed to be thinking about something else more than taking delight in teasing me.

My thoughts proved to be correct when he set his seething temper at one of the guards standing nearby. "Get her out. You, you, and you, get her to safety. I don't want those barbarians to find her or even get a glimpse of her! You," He said to Agnese who looked terrified, "Hurry up and gather the handmaids and company my fiancée to the safe house until I arrive."

"Si, Signore."

Agnese curtsied and pink blotched on her cheeks as she fought the urge to stutter, "As you wish, sir."

In a rush of skirts, she was gone and the other guards as well had disappeared. Two giants of men, dressed in a full suit of armor from head to toe remained on their feet. The duo were massive in size, one of them held a giant mace as the other held an axe.

I nearly let out a shout of surprise when Alonso was suddenly very close. In that split second, his hands were crushing my arms. "Don't think that I've forgotten about you." He said his breath hot against my face. I glared into his eyes and looked away. "Normally, it would be polite of a lady to look at the person's face when he's talking to you…"

"Polite!" I said. "That's a funny thing coming from a man like _you_. A man who accuse _me _of not being polite when it was _him _who decided to show up and invite himself into her bathroom when she's trying to bathe! Then next _he_ tries to molest her with his body without even bothering to ask how _she _felt or what _she _wanted! You sir, have noright to accuse me of being impolite when you should take a look at yourself!"

The heavy guarded brute standing at the doorway didn't even move at my words. I hoped for some sort of surprise, and maybe they were and their faces beneath their helmets showed it. But Alonso stared at me, unsmiling. His teasing glimmer in his eyes vanished with one blink and he watched me without any emotion. "I never said that I was a polite man." He said. "_That _was your father's mistake for thinking so."

"_You _made him think that way by acting like a gentleman."

"It's funny how a mask like that can get you anything you want." I clamped my lips together furious. He looked over his shoulder as a helmed guard stepped into the room. With his back stiff as a board and heels snapped together, the captain bowed respectful and stood by silently watching my direction. The pressure on my arms made me look back at the man in front of me. His dark eyes sought mine and pinned my wandering gaze still. "I won't give those men the satisfaction to taking what's rightfully mine." He whispered. It was hard to say if he was talking to me or telling himself. "Mind that sharp tongue of yours and stay with my men."

He let go of me. I stared after him, baffled at his back. Not once had he made an effort to charm me or even plant as kiss on my face. His hands didn't roam as they always did either; they were tight and still. Although I was relieved that he hadn't given any thought to try, I mentally questioned his true identity and quietly, unease rippled in my heart and frightened me with its enigma.

"My lady?" said the captain at my side, a hand tense on the hilt strapped at the side of his hip, "Please, we must make haste."

"What of Alonso?"

"He will meet us at the carriage and hurry to another town nearby until the chaos has settled down."

I nodded and with him beside me at my elbow, I was escorted outside the room, down the corridor and finally the flight of steps that led me to a room I hadn't entered before. Standing near the entrance, a group of shadows remained among the quiet. As I grew closer, the pile became people: three maids, including Agnese, and four other guards who snapped to attention when they noticed me and their commanding officer. With clear words, their orders were brief but full of heavy detail. One by one, each of the men placed a hand on the hilt of the swords as if drawing courage from the comforting frame of steel. I glanced behind me as my entourage of women looked shocked by the display. Agnese, being as collected as she was, showed little, but I could tell that even the sight unnerved her.

Why wasn't I afraid?

Perhaps I knew that the men would obey their duty and was confident in their abilities. Or maybe it was because I had grown up around brutes like them and had seen a sword in action like the time Alonso had slain Benito in cold blood. The men were stationed all around us, where my maids huddled around me, leaving me in the center. I felt like a target. We maneuvered out the side door and into the streets. The sounds I had heard earlier back in my bedroom was louder now, more alive. The Captain escorted us through the alleyways, away from the main street but every so often, I could catch a glimpse of what was happening out there. Sometime it would be the flash of a running body or even catching the shouts of anger.

One of the girls beside me stumbled, breaking me from my reverie. I helped her back on her feet before one of the guards behind us ushered us back to our quick pace. I knew their reason, but still I wished that one of them might have carried a torch to help light our path instead of the dim moonlight.

"The hideout is not far, my lady." The Captain said, appearing at my side without a sound. "I appreciate your silence. It makes our task easier." He added. I merely inclined by head to his grateful words and with a nod of his head in return he began talking to the guards in a low voice. I averted my eyes away to give them privacy when I heard something began running at us: fast. Out of habit I glanced back behind me expecting some sort of interruption. There was no one. No hint of anyone besides us. Confusion trickled into my brain as I glanced around. Before I denied the thought to dub myself tired and imagining things, a feeling brushed over me, like a cool shadow during a hot day. I looked up, but saw nothing expect the night sky glittering with stars. Then a thud broke me from my sightseeing and I snapped my eyes forward in front of me. It sounded that was too heavy for a pigeon or any small bird. My forehead creased as my eyebrows drew down trying to pinpoint the suspect. A part of me knew that I was being watched by my maids. I ignored them but kept theorizing, kept thinking.

"Did you hear something?" I asked the Captain.

He looked at me with an odd look, "No, my lady." But as he said this, he went tense and the better part of his conscious appeared to think otherwise. His eyes darted around under his helmet. I felt strangely uneasy as if I was blind to some sort of danger. Perhaps the Captain felt it too.

Suddenly there was shrill ring of steel and a fierce cry of battle. One of the guards, with another breaking from our group running after him, had charged at the darkness behind us. I squinted as something bright, like a star, flashed. Pure terror washed over me like I was dumped in ice water. It was one of _them_. Quickly the men ran to engage the mercenary. His axe smashed against them and he knocked them aside like scarecrows. The Captain already had his sword out and he began shouting orders to the others that remained.

"Merda!" _Shit! _"Run, my lady! Try to make it to the safe house around the corner!"

Automatically, Agnese's hand was somehow in mine and I tugged her after me. The other three stumbled behind me, lost in a stupor. "Come on!" I shouted. Behind me I heard a shout of pain; my heart lurched with fear as there was a sound of something metal striking the ground. We spun around the corner and before I could feel the relief of making out of the ally safely, I collided into something big and hard. I fell on my buttocks, stunned as if I had charged at a brick wall. I shook my head, "Watch where you're go—"

I shut my mouth as my level of terror increased dramatically. It was one of the mercenaries, the ones who were attack the city guards. He was _huge_. Just as big as the two men I had seen carrying the crate this morning. He had the same thick neck, and arms roped with bulky muscle that made me feel smaller than I already was and delicate as glass. Dear Lord…He was carrying an axe which gleamed too brightly for my taste when the sharp edge turned. He looked at me. But my gaze traveled at behind him where two bodies were flat against the ground, their limps sprawled unnaturally. They had to be the men Alonso had assigned to wait for my arrival, and in some stroke of bad luck, they met someone they hadn't expected. I looked away from the carcasses straight into the Mercanary's eyes and resisted the strong urge to scurry back. Such actions would be fruitless as he could easily take two steps to override me.

"Run!" I ordered the others. At least they could escape when I couldn't.

Agnese's voice: "But, my la—"

"NOW! THAT'S AN ORDER!" I knew they hesitated but as soon as the mercenary stepped forward, they threw themselves towards the opposite direction. I knew that they were going to try and find help, but it'd be too late when they would arrive. I winced when he bent over and took hold of my arm. What did Alonso say that Mercenaries did with women? Rape them? "DON'T TOUCH ME!" I shouted, struggling with panic as he pulled me to my feet…only to gently set me against the wall and released me. _What? _I watched him place his axe down as if it weighed as much as a twig and pound both sides of his head.

"Dear Lord," He said. His low voice sounded as if the earth at my feet spoke, "You've got a set of lungs there, missy."

I suddenly felt very weak as the panic that coursed through me emptied. I almost sat down in surprise. "You're not…" I swallowed, "Not going to hurt me?"

"No." he muttered irritably. "Why would I?" He made a face as he shook his head.

"I thought—"

"We don't hurt the innocent civilians." said the mercenary, "We're only here to deal with the Pazzi."

_The Pazzi? _"But why?" But he was already gone, leaving me dumbfounded by this discovery. Why were they after the Pazzi? Had they done something to cause such offense? I figured that they did considering by what was happening now. Before I could get the chance to find shelter and regroup with the other ladies, something inside my head clicked, like the wheels in my brain where functioning and working overdrive. The Pazzi…they came for dinner and they spoke of a 'master'…I remembered the box and the document…if the Mercanari were after the Pazzi then that would mean…"_No._" I whispered.

I spun around and ran back into the streets. I didn't care if anybody saw me. Saw me, and even had the thoughts of chasing me down. Fear's hand had its fingers enveloped around my heart. If the Pazzi were the target then Alonso would also be drawn into it all because he was an acquaintance of theirs. Bodies of slain guards lined the roads and dirtied the ground with their blood. I saw it, but I could not grasp the reality before my eyes. Why was I so concerned about Alonso? I hated the man, I hated his sly and cunning behavior, and how he was always one step in front of me while I struggled to best him. But then why was I worried? It wasn't love. I knew deep inside my soul that I hated the man, but despite such strong resentment I couldn't let him die. Perhaps he _was_ cruel, but he was my last resort to obtain…obtain what? Was I seeking my father's love? Was that the reason that made me put up with that wretched man? Maybe it was.

I burst back into a sprint straight towards the villa, and hitched up the hem of my gown to prevent myself from tripping. As I whirled around the corner, I skidded in surprise and nearly fell. Speaking of the devil. It was Alonso. He didn't notice me as he ran into the villa yards ahead of me with guards following at his heels. "Alonso!" I shouted. But he didn't appear to have heard me. In fact, he seemed to be in deep conversation with his bodyguards. He looked furious, and his mouth was snarling as he was spitting words.

I went in to pursue him when they disappeared into the house. The place I had known to be of light and life was dead of light and people. I glanced around me, trying to search for some sort of light within the shadows. How did they manage to escape my sight so easily? "Hello? Anyone?" But my question disappeared into the air without a reply. I strained for any sound besides my own breathing.

There it was. But not the direction I was expecting. I slowly craned my neck back; my eyes wandering to the ceiling I couldn't see. It was a faint sound, a quiet thud before it seemed to wander off. Hitching up the seam of my dress, I ran down the corridor. My thoughts relating to the question of the source was immediately forgotten as I was welcomed to a familiar sight. I nearly collided against the entrance and threw open the door where it struck the wall behind it with a loud bang_._

He looked at me.

But it wasn't Alonso.

He was crouched on top of him; the window behind the desk was wide open. We stared at each other, like two wild animals meeting for the first time. _Scream! _The rational part of me shouted, _Scream as if you life depended on it! _But even being aware at the heightened sense of danger, I was too shocked to do anything but to stand where I was and act dumb.Keeping his eyes on me as I could suddenly leap at him or do anything that would threaten him, the stranger reached for Alonso's hand, and grasped something that crinkled when he touched it. I knew what it was immediately. It was the document that had arrived earlier today; the ancient page that had words inscribed in a language of another age, a different time. _Was that why Alonso had returned? _I wondered, sneaking a peek at him and back to the man who was still watching me, _To get that document? _

All thoughts vanished when the stranger stood up, causing the moonlight behind him to cascade behind him, and shadow his body. I felt his eyes burning into my face though I could not tell what emotion fueled it. The brightness of the light made his face impossible to make out, but all my thoughts relating to his appearance was distracted at something that had caught the moonlight which made it gleam bright as a star. I realized that its edge wasn't dull. Petrified, I stared at the knife that protruded from his fingertips, across his palm and into a dark shape at his forearm. A thick drop collected from its blade and I watched it fall for what it felt like an eternity and soak up in the rug to leave a fresh stain. It was blood. And before I even knew it, I let out a scream which tore my throat asunder and enflamed my lungs with a blazing fire.

He made a start to step forward but in a white flash his hood snapped up. A rustle of metal clinking together, a rush of gray, brought me to my senses as guards ran past me after the murderer who had quickly propelled out of the open window and fled into the night like some sort of demon. I collapsed onto my knees, staring at the window and empty of both body and mind. Numbly, I was the aware that the guards began arguing amongst themselves—but on what I couldn't understand. I simply gazed upon Alonso's body: limp and dead; Alonso who looked like an angel that had been shot out of the sky. He wasn't the only one…the bodies of the other guards who I had seen alongside him where on the floor too, their weapons stripped from their hands and eyes staring into the unseen beyond.

Someone from the guard approached me, talking to me in small words as he tried to get me to communicate. I knew somewhere inside of me that he wanted to know what had happened. I thought about the document that had been stolen, I thought about my father, and fate I narrowly escaped of being a slave to a man's lust or the clutches of death. The emotions of relief, shock, terror, and utter desolation crushed me with their magnitude.

But I couldn't muster a word that could cope with my thoughts and feelings. Instead, I fell apart and broke down weeping.


	15. Just an update, no bad news!

Hello everyone, Animangame02freak here with no chapter but only news.

Due to many messages, I've decided to make it officially thrown out there to update you all that I AM still continuing with the story.

So not to confuse or worry anyone.

I've been very busy within these past few months and years attending my classes and lectures for my major and been putting my priorities over my stories. I'm currently on Winter Break so I hope to split family time to continue to write.

I apologize sincerely for not uploading as frequently as I have in the past. But times change and free time is a rare occurrence as I age year by year and step up to new responsibilities. I hope you all understand. Thank you to all who continue to read and support the story.

Have a Happy Christmas!

Animangame02freak

**I'll delete this once I update just to minus any complaints about author's note not supposed to be in the story. Odd rule but hey, I don't own this site.**


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